Second Star to the Right
by Rhianna-Aurora
Summary: AU Captain Swan. Based on the path of the Tarot's Major Arcana. Every journey starts with a single step. Emma never left Killian up the beanstalk, instead, they went back to Storybrooke together. Now Emma's finding herself increasingly drawn to the infuriating pirate captain, and a series of events that neither one of them could have predicted has been set into motion.
1. Prologue: The Fool

**A/N: **I am soooo in love with this 'ship now, and I've just been attacked by the plot bunnies here. This is Part 1 of 22 (for the 22 Major Arcana cards in the Tarot, which is where the whole idea for this fic came from), and I hope you all enjoy it.

**Prologue**  
_**The Fool**_  
_"We were strangers, starting out on a journey … "_

Storybrooke was pretty much exactly like Emma remembered it … aside from the addition of a few new residents, of course. Mulan and Aurora were well-received by the townsfolk, as Emma knew they would be. Emma knew that Aurora worried for her prince, left behind in the nearly ruined Enchanted Forest, but she hid it well.

The other newcomer, however …

God, she really wished she hadn't climbed that beanstalk with him. Fucking giant. It was all his fault.

No. No, that wasn't fair. The giant was just protecting his turf, after all. Anyone would do the same.

No. This was all _Killian's_ fault. Fucking Killian.

Okay, maybe those two words together weren't the best combination. She really didn't need to let her brain wander down _that_ road.

Mary-Margaret — _Mom_ — she seemed to sense that something was up the second Emma and Killian had returned with the compass, but Emma wasn't exactly in a sharing mood at that point. Mostly she was just …

An idiot.

Even though the circumstances had been kinda dire, she still wished she could have a little bit of that famous Storybrooke memory loss right about now. She didn't need to remember …

She shook her head, pulling open the door to the sheriff's office and smiling when she saw David — _Dad_ — sitting at her desk, glad for the distraction. "Are you planning on letting me have my job back, or am I unemployed?" she asked jokingly, moving to sit on the edge of the desk.

David looked up at the sound of her voice and smiled softly. Of course they'd already talked since she and Mary-Margaret had returned, but he still seemed happy to see her, every time since then, as if he was glad she hadn't gotten sucked off into another portal somewhere.

"Of course you can have your job back," he said, shaking his head. "I gladly resign. It's not as easy as you make it look."

Emma smiled, a little nervously. Every once in awhile, it would suddenly hit her that she'd found her parents … and the truth surrounding it was all so surreal that it sorta floored her for a bit. "Well, that's good," she said. "I'd hate to have to go beg Ruby for work at the diner. I can't cook for shit."

David laughed. "I'm sure it's not that bad," he said kindly.

Emma fixed him with a look. "You want me to cook for you sometime, then?" she asked dryly.

He made a big show of checking his watch and gathering up his coat then. "Oh, look at that, I've got to go," he said, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Thought so," she said, shaking her head a bit. "But seriously, get out of here, go home and see your wife."

He nodded. "I will. But if you need anything … "

"I'll let you know, I promise," she said, waving him off. Before he could get much farther though, she reached out and touched his shoulder, almost tentatively. He turned and she smiled again. "Thank you," she said. "For everything you did … for Henry and … "

He smiled back, his hand resting over hers. "How could I have done anything else?" he said. He nodded at her desk. "Don't work too hard."

"Who, me?" Emma quipped. "Never." He just gave her a look, and she waved him off again.

Once he was gone, she moved back over to her desk, wondering what sort of mess she'd come back to. Surprisingly … not much of one. David had done a pretty good job keeping things organized in her absence. Which was a good thing, except …

It gave her far too much time to think. And thinking was not something she wanted to be doing, in light of all the recent events. Not to mention …

"You know you can't keep me locked up in here."

It was like he'd just waited for David to leave to start being a nuisance. Well, yeah, of course that's what he did. She did her best to ignore him, poring over some of the files on her desk as though they were the most interesting things she'd ever seen.

"What crime have I committed, exactly, that warrants me being locked up like a common crook?"

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"You didn't seem to mind me talking back in the Enchanted Forest. Or, wait, is _that_ it? Is that why you kissed me, then?"

Emma whirled in her chair then, eyes snapping fire at him. "I said, shut up!" she snarled.

"Oooh, that one struck a nerve," he said, an infuriating smirk on his too-handsome face. "But I really think we ought to talk about it … and you ought to let me out when we do."

"Not gonna happen," she muttered, turning back to her files. She just couldn't look at him, not right now. Not when she could distinctly remember the way his lips had tasted …

_Nope. Stop that now._

"I'm fairly certain there are laws about locking a person up wrongfully."

God, did he _ever_ shut up? "You're not locked up because of something you did," she said, still not looking back at him.

"Well, that just makes it all better then," he said dryly. "Emma. _Emma_."

She gritted her teeth. God, this was a bad idea. They should've just left him back there after they had the compass, but nooooo, Emma had to go and be all noble and insist that they keep their end of the bargain.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She stood up abruptly, so abruptly that her chair toppled over to the ground. She glared at it, then sighed, reaching for her leather jacket.

"Oh, you are not actually leaving me alone in here, are you?"

"Yes, I actually am," she retorted, making for the door.

"At least tell me why."

She stopped halfway to the door and sighed heavily. She did at least owe him that much. She turned around and walked back over to stand in front of his cell, keeping herself back a safe distance. "Because if what you told me before was true, then you aren't going to exactly be a most welcome person in this town, and I'm not about to let something happen to you."

That didn't come out right. He had an eyebrow cocked at her now.

"I just meant, as sheriff, I wouldn't really be doing my job if I let harm befall one of my citizens and … " She trailed off. He was smirking at her again. Probably not even listening to a word she said. "Forget it," she muttered, turning to go.

"So why can't I just stay with you?" he asked with a grin.

"Not on the likely, buddy," she said. She could just see that one now. Snow and Charming and Henry and Hook with his inappropriate smirks and comments … God, no. Bad bad _bad_ idea.

"You can't keep me locked in here indefinitely," he said.

"Look, you said you wanted to come here for revenge on Rumpelstiltskin," she said. "And I get it, I do, that guy's not exactly on the level. But he also pretty much owns this town. If he wanted something to happen to you … it would. And no one would even question it." She looked back over her shoulder at him. "It's better if you stay off his radar for as long as possible."

"You won't keep me from my revenge," he told her, a light in his eyes she hadn't seen before. This bad blood between him and Mr. Gold — Rumpelstiltskin, whatever — it had to go beyond the loss of his hand, but she wasn't about to press him about it, not right now. She wasn't even sure she cared.

"I'm not planning on it," she said honestly. "But you better have a good damn plan before you go for it." She shook her head. "Look, I'm going to talk to a friend of mine, see if you can stay at her family's inn. She's pretty good at keeping secrets. Trust me, I don't want you locked in here, annoying me while I'm trying to work for any longer than necessary."

"Sure, that's the reason," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes. "We're not talking about … _that_, either," she said warningly.

"We don't have to _talk_ about it," he said leadingly.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go now," she said, heading for the door again.

"But you thought about it! Admit it!" was the last thing she heard before she exited the sheriff's office. She pulled on her jacket against the brisk fall wind and headed toward Granny's Diner. She could really use a drink right about now.

The little bell chimed as she pushed open the door to the diner, and Ruby looked up, smiling at her from behind the bar. Her smile vanished though, when she saw the look on Emma's face. "Well, someone isn't happy to be back," she said, eyes wide. "What's up?"

"You got any room at the inn?" Emma asked her, sitting down on one of the barstools.

"Things that bad, living with the folks?" Ruby asked with a laugh. She set down Emma's usual drink in front of the blonde.

"Oh, it's not for me," she said, taking the drink with a grateful smile. She looked over her shoulder, making sure no one was around to hear her next words. "Aurora and Mulan weren't the only ones who came over with us, when we came back," she said, lowering her voice and leaning across the bar a bit.

"Ooh, I'm sensing scandal," Ruby said, eyes twinkling michievously.

Emma rolled her eyes. "Nothing like that. Just that … he … needs to be protected," she said, not sure how else to word it. "There are certain people here who wouldn't be happy to know it. Could he stay at the inn, without you or Granny saying anything?"

"As a favor to you?" Ruby said, grinning. "Of course, Emma. Bring him by tonight. I'll talk to Granny before then."

Emma finished the rest of her drink, feeling marginally better for it. She knew she had to go back to the office, but knowing she'd be getting rid of him soon sort of helped. "Thanks, Ruby," she said, standing to go.

"No problem!" the dark-haired girl said cheerfully. "Ooh, wait, one question." Emma turned around, looking expectantly at her. "This mystery man of yours … hot?" Ruby quirked her eyebrow with a grin.

Emma just shook her head. _Hot_ didn't even begin to describe him. "You'll see for yourself soon enough." She felt a funny pang in her stomach when she thought about Ruby and Killian spending time together. But that was _stupid_. She wanted him to leave her alone, after all.

"Oh, he _is_ hot," Ruby deduced with no little amount of glee in her voice.

"Ruby, he's … " Emma began, then frowned. What exactly was she going to say? _Hands off, wolf-girl?_ What right did she have to say that? Why would she even _want_ to? She just shook her head. "Nothing. I'll bring him by the inn later. Thanks again."

She made her way back to the office, bracing herself for a new barrage of annoyances as she pulled open the door.

She knew something was wrong the second she walked inside, but it wasn't til she reached the holding area that she figured out what. "Son of a _bitch_!" she cursed, slamming her hand down on the top of her desk when she saw that the door to his cell was open.

Well, now he could be anywhere, hell, Rumpelstiltskin could have already found him at this point …

_Good riddance,_ a small part of her was saying, though the rest of her was in full-on panic mode. "Shit, shit, shit … "

"Such language, Miss Swan. Did you lose something?"

She jumped about thirty feet into the air as she whirled to face him. "How the hell did you get out?" she demanded and he fixed her with a bored look.

"Emma, please, I'm a _pirate_. Give me some credit." He grinned and sat on the corner of her desk, looking at her as though he expected her to do something about it.

She sighed. "You're such a bastard," she muttered, which only made him grin more. "That's not actually a compliment," she told him wryly.

"If you're that worried about what sort of … mischief," he said the word almost lasciviously, running his tongue over his teeth in a way that bordered on obscene, "then take me with you. Keep a _close_ eye on me."

Emma fixed him with a steely glare, refusing to let herself be swayed by this man, not again, not _ever_ again. "I am not taking you back to Mary-Margaret and David's," she said emphatically.

"Why not?" he asked. "Afraid I'll let it slip what you did back on top of that beanstalk?" He quirked a brow at her.

"Do you _ever_ shut up?"

"One way to find out," he said, hopping off the desk and moving to stand way too close to her, leaning in. She could feel his breath on her face, and for a fraction of a second, she considered closing the gap between them, like she had back on top of that beanstalk, after they'd escaped from the giant.

That had been all it had been about, she told herself. Things had been pretty hairy up there, and they very nearly hadn't escaped. It had been a mixture of sheer terror, and relief about escaping, that had caused Emma to throw her arms around him and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

She had regretted it almost immediately, and now, back in Storybrooke, back in the harsh light of day, it was even more apparent that it had been a foolish, idiotic thing to do, even as the memories of his lips, his tongue, his hand roaming to places that it had no business roaming flooded her mind and made her blush. He was a good kisser … he was probably good at everything. That was the problem.

The last thing Emma needed right now was the complications that this pirate could bring into her life. She placed a hand on his chest then, and, summoning all her willpower, gave him a shove backward.

"Not. Gonna. Happen," she told him, her voice low with her resolve.

Instead of pushing, like she'd assumed he would, all he did was shrug. "As you say, Miss Swan," he said with an exaggerated bow. She caught the glint in his eye though, and knew this wasn't over. "I'll just be taking my leave of you. For now."

It wasn't til he was out the door that it dawned on Emma that he was just out and about in Storybrooke, on his own. God knew what kind of trouble he could get into. "Oh, like hell … " she cursed, following him out into the night.


	2. Chapter One: The Magician

**A/N:** Like I mentioned in the first chapter, this story was _heavily_ influenced by the Tarot, the idea of a journey being taken. The Magician card in the Tarot, for those who don't know, symbolizes the idea of manifestation, of ideas becoming reality. For the purposes of this fic, the Magician symbolizes Killian, just as the Fool in the last chapter symbolized Emma (and it's not an insult to be the Fool — the Fool is all about embarking on a new journey and starting a new chapter in ones life … which is _totally_ Emma). There is _something_ between them, something is in its tentative beginning stages, and it all starts here. This is the TRUE first chapter of this story, and I hope you all like it. It's quite a bit shorter than the Prologue was, and the next few chapters will probably not be all that long either, but don't worry, it's all leading somewhere big, I PROMISE.

Also, I am not psychic and have no way of knowing what the show-runners are planning for these two, so everything in this story can be considered AU.

And I do _sincerely_ apologize for the use of the "Call Me Maybe" lyric at the beginning, but no other song line fit this particular chapter quite so well as that one. ;)

**Chapter One**  
_**The Magician**_  
_"I wasn't looking for this, but now you're in my way … "_

Luckily he hadn't gotten too far by the time she caught up with him. He was just sauntering down Main Street, as if he owned the place. "You are out of your mind if you think I'm about to let you wander around Storybrooke on your own," she hissed at him.

He fixed her with that same damn infuriating smirk that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face. "Forty-five seconds," he said, clucking his tongue and shaking his head at her.

"What?" she asked, completely baffled as to what he was talking about now.

"It took you forty-five seconds to follow me," he explained, as though he were talking to a very small child. "I thought you had a bit more dignity than all that. Thought you'd wait a few _minutes_ at least."

She glared at him. "And let you do God knows what in my town?" she snapped. "Not likely."

"Oh, your town is it?" he said teasingly. "Shall I start calling you Queen Emma?"

"I have a gun," she reminded him.

"I thought Snow took that away from you," he replied, casting a glance to her hip holster and flashing that stupid grin of his.

Emma immediately reached for her gun, only to find the holster empty. Shit. "Oh, shut up," she told him.

"You're the one who followed me," he pointed out. "And after only _forty-five seconds_, too."

"I'm taking you to my friends' inn," she told him, ignoring his jabs at her so-called lack of dignity. "You'll be safe there, until you figure out whatever it is you're planning on doing." She shot him a look. "But I'm not about to let you kill someone, revenge or not."

"Emma, please," he said, giving her a droll look. "Murder and revenge are not the same thing, not even close."

There it was again, that dark light in his impossibly blue eyes, that let her know that there was soooo much more to this story. He stopped walking, turning to look at her, his hand and his … well, stump … coming to rest on her shoulders. "I'm not going to make you regret letting me come along with you," he told her, that same earnest "I'm just a poor blacksmith" look in his eyes he'd had when she'd first met him. "I know it was you who spoke up for me."

She stepped away from him, not wanting him touching her, it was hard to think when he did. "I'm already regretting it, I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered irritably, which only made him laugh. That pissed her off too.

"No you're not," he told her, tapping her chin with his finger, tilting it up so she was looking at him again.

"Will you stop touching me?" she snapped, jerking her head out of his reach. For someone with only one hand, he was really fucking grabby. "What part of 'not gonna happen' did you miss?"

He chuckled, and she tried not to stare. His smile was … _Nope. Stop it._

"Someone's cranky," he said, resuming walking as though he didn't have a care in the world. "So which way to this inn of yours?"

She nodded her head in the direction of Granny's bed and breakfast. "This way," she said.

"You know, if you're so worried about what I might get up to in your absence … " he began, and she shook her head vehemently before he even finished that sentence.

"I'm not taking you home with me," she said. God, he was _persistent_.

"Even if I promise to behave myself?" he said with a smirk.

"Like I'd trust that," she said, fixing him with a glare. "You're a pirate."

"You say that like it's a dirty word," he said, still smirking.

"You're _Captain Hook_!" she hissed.

"Well, at the moment, I'm Captain Stump," he said dryly, looking down where his hand used to be. "Since _someone_ took my hook. I want that back, by the way."

"The last thing Storybrooke needs is a man with a hook wandering around."

"Has anyone ever told you, Emma my love, that you are far too uptight?"

And now he was standing directly in her path. She tried stepping forward, but he blocked her, she tried side-stepping him, he blocked that too. He really was good at that invading-personal-space thing.

"I am _not_ your love," she said, and then she shifted a little uncomfortably. "And I'm not uptight!"

Killian rolled his eyes. "Of course not, my mistake," he said. "Tell me, _love_," he emphasized the word, leaning in close again, his voice lowering to a husky whisper, "why is it you keep trying to get away from me?"

She gritted her teeth, trying to think about anything but how ridiculously sexy he was. This was the last thing she needed. The _last_ thing. The next time she got involved with someone, it wasn't going to be because her hormones took over. She wanted something _real_, something like what Snow and Charming had. She might've almost had that, before, with Graham … but …

She wasn't going to find it here, not with Killian. She knew his type, and wasn't sure a man like him was capable of deeper feelings. And she _needed_ deeper feelings.

"And why is it you keep pushing to get closer?" she asked, managing to hold her ground and not give him the satisfaction of her backing away from him again.

"I told you before," he said with a grin, kissing her forehead, then standing up to his full height, backing up a bit to maintain a decent distance. "You bested me, and not many people can claim that. Is it so hard to accept that I'd be _interested_ in the woman who managed to do what so few others have?"

_Yes_, she thought, her brow burning where his lips had touched, her hands itching to pull him back. _You're only interested because of the chase or whatever stupid thing they say. It's not me you want. No one ever actually wants me._ "And if I say that I'm not?" she asked, voice tight as she turned away from him and started walking again.

"Then I name you liar," he said to her back, and she could _hear_ the stupid smirk in his voice. "And I ask you to prove it."

She stopped walking, her anger snapping. He made her blood boil, and she honestly wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing. When was the last time _anyone_ had gotten to her like this? How on earth did one _prove_ disinterest more than she'd already tried to? Just because he was the most persistent, inexhaustible, dogged individual she had ever met …

"Fine," she sighed, turning to face him again, suddenly just _tired_ of it. Tired of all of it. She just wanted to sleep, and she didn't want to deal with anything else right now. "Come with me." She turned, heading back in the opposite direction they'd been walking in.

"I thought the inn was that way," he said, eyebrow cocked quizzically as he once again fell into step with her. "Where are we going?"

"I'm proving it," she said, not looking at him as they walked. This was as much for her as it was anything else. She told herself it was just easier this way … if he was around her, all the time, he couldn't get himself into any trouble with the townsfolk.

Besides, if absence was supposed to make the heart grow _fonder_, she hoped the reverse might be true as well. "I'm taking you home."


	3. Chapter Two: The Priestess

**A/N: **First of all, I want to say THANK YOU guys for all the favorites, follows, and reviews this crazy little fic has gotten. I love knowing that you guys are enjoying it, it really really makes me happy.

Secondly, how frickin' great was "Tallahassee", huh? Best episode of the series so far, IMHO. Of course, it does mean that everything in this fic is AU like whoa. But I'm okay with this, because I want to tell THIS story, and I want to tell it MY way, and I hope you guys enjoy the ride. It's going somewhere big in the near future, I PROMISE.

This chapter is another kinda short one, and I apologize for that, but they will get longer the farther along we go. Right now, we're just in the beginning stages of Emma's journey. There are miles and miles to go.

**Chapter Two**  
_**The Priestess**_  
_"I give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it … "_

Of course there were curious looks the second Emma and Killian walked in the door, but Emma shot all three of them a warning look. "Don't even start," she said, shaking her head at them.

"Wasn't he … locked up?" David asked. "Didn't we decide that was safer?"

Emma sighed, sitting down at the table, watching Killian out of the corner of her eye as he wandered around, taking stock of his new surroundings. "We did," she agreed, "but you can't just keep a person locked up for no reason." She didn't really want to admit that he'd gotten out.

"It's cruel and unusual punishment," Killian added helpfully. Emma glared at him, everyone else ignored him. Except Henry, who was looking at him with cautious curiosity.

"So you brought him _here_?" Mary-Margaret had that "Are you out of your mind?" look on her face, the one Emma had gotten to know quite well when they were in the Enchanted Forest.

"Well … yeah?" Emma said, shrugging a bit. "I can't have him just wandering around town."

Killian gave a winning smile to the other three at the table. "Emma seems to be under the impression that the town is hers to protect," he said with a conspiratorial grin.

"Stop helping," she told him, which just earned her a wink from him.

"Why are you here, anyway?" David wanted to know. "Never did get an explanation on that one."

"Well," Mary-Margaret began, before Emma cut her off.

"He helped us," she said. "We wouldn't have found the compass without him. And I probably would be crushed under a giant's boot if not for him." The words came begrudgingly, but that didn't make them any less true. There was a moment, clear as day in her mind, when he'd physically put himself between her and the giant, allowing her time to get away …

"But why is he here?" This time, it was Henry who wanted to know.

"Ah, so he speaks," Killian said. "Was starting to wonder if he was mute."

Everyone continued to ignore him, looking instead to Emma. "You mean, here as in Storybrooke?" she asked, shifting a little in her chair. "He has … unfinished business?" She looked to Killian and he gave a shrug and a nod at her assessment. She nodded. "Unfinished business with Mr. Gold — Rumplestiltskin." She looked at the others imploringly then. "But he can't know that Kil — Hook is here," she added quickly. "Which is why … I brought him here."

David was quiet for a long moment. "I don't like it," he said finally.

"I know you don't," Emma said, "I don't expect you to. But this is my decision. He's a citizen of Storybrooke now, and that means he's my responsibility." She glanced at Mary-Margaret, then looked away quickly, wondering if she would say anything else. Such as the fact that everyone else had wanted to leave Killian behind, but Emma had insisted that they keep their bargain with him.

If anything happened to him, it really would be her fault.

"Where's he going to sleep?" Henry asked, looking back and forth between Emma and Killian warily.

"In my room," Emma said tiredly, not thinking until she was met with four sets of raised eyebrows and one _very_ inappropriate smirk. "Oh, what is wrong with all of you?" she snapped. "I _meant_, he can have my room, and I'll sleep on the couch!" She threw up her hands and stood up from the table then. "I'm tired. Can we just continue this tomorrow?" She didn't wait for them to answer her, she started for the stairs, throwing a look over her shoulder at Killian and nodding for him to follow her.

She was more than a little perturbed when instead, she saw that he had taken her spot at the table. She heard the words "pirate ship" and rolled her eyes. Well, there went Henry's support. Hell, even David was listening pretty intently to whatever dumb story Killian was telling them, complete with animated facial expressions and a lot of gesticulating.

Damn that pirate and his too-charming-for-his-own-good ways.

"Fine, I'm just going to take a bath," she said, knowing no one was listening to her anyway.

She was wrong. Her eyes met Killian's for a split second and she caught the hint of a smirk on his lips before she stomped her way up the stairs, before he could say anything really offensive, or at all.

She went to her room, rifling through her dresser to gather up everything she would need for tonight and tomorrow, so that once she got Killian settled in here, she'd have no reason to come back in. That just seemed like a distinctly bad idea, all around. She gave a quick scan of the room, doing that stupid teenage thing where you make sure there's nothing embarrassing in sight, because if there was, God knew Killian would comment on it later.

Her arms were full of her clothes and toiletries and she was just starting to reach for the handle on the door when there was a knock. "What?" she asked, a little bit more irritably than she intended, assuming it was Killian.

"Emma?"

It was Mary-Margaret. Emma sighed, not sure if it was from relief or frustration. She knew what this visit meant, and she wasn't sure she was up for that conversation right now. "Come in," she said finally.

Mary-Margaret pushed the door open, peeking her head inside. She had that concerned expression on her face, and Emma set her stuff down, knowing this was going to be a long talk. "What's up?" she asked, as though everything were completely normal around here.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Mary-Margaret said, shutting the door behind her and moving to sit on the edge of Emma's bed.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked innocently.

Mary-Margaret fixed her with that look of hers, the one that made Emma shift uncomfortably, as though she were still a kid. She had no idea how Mary-Margaret managed it.

"Well, I couldn't leave him locked up!" she finally said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "And I will feel better if I know where he is at all times, won't you?"

Mary-Margaret didn't speak for a few moments, giving Emma a serious look, as though she were weighing her words. "You sure that's all this is about?"

"Oh, my God, _yes_," Emma snapped, getting annoyed now. She was sick of the looks and the innuendos and the implications that she felt anything more than duty toward the damn pirate. "Do you honestly think if I wanted to jump his bones, I'd bring him back _here_?"

She said that pretty loud. She wondered with a wince if they'd heard it downstairs. Oh, _hell_.

Mary-Margaret bit back a grin. "All right, all right, that's a fair point," she conceded. "Still … bringing him here … "

"I was going to take him to Granny's," Emma confessed, sitting down on the bed next to her mother then. "But … I don't know, at the last minute … "

"Worried about Ruby?"

"What?" Emma asked, too quickly. "No! Of course not. Why … why would I be worried about her? Why would I even care?"

"I don't know," Mary-Margaret said. "Why would you?"

"Stop doing that," Emma grumbled. "I know what you're thinking, and you need to just stop thinking it. There's nothing going on, not now, nor will there _ever_ be."

She sighed. "I'm the one who insisted we let him come back … it's my fault if something happens to him."

"Emma, you have got to stop taking all responsibility for everything," Mary-Margaret said, not unkindly. She put her arm around Emma's shoulders and squeezed gently. "It's not good for you."

"Nothing I do is good for me," she muttered. "It's not that easy to just stop, though." She gave a half-hearted smile to Mary-Margaret. "But this time, I promise … you just have to trust me. I know what I'm doing. And what I'm most emphatically _not _doing," she added pointedly, earning a laugh from Mary-Margaret.

"I hope so," she said. "I know what it's like when your feelings cloud your judgement. But Emma?"

"Mmm?" Emma asked, looking at her.

"Sometimes it's okay to act on feelings, too." Mary-Margaret stood up then. "But you're tired, and you don't want to keep talking to me about this, I can tell. Just … whatever it is you think you're doing? Be careful, all right?"

Emma frowned as Mary-Margaret left the room, sitting on the edge of her bed for several minutes, lost in thought, before she remembered what she'd set out to do in the first place. She stood up and began gathering up her things again, moving to the door and using the tip of her boot to nudge it open.

She was not all that surprised when she saw Killian standing just outside the door. "May I help you?" she asked him blandly.

"Was going to ask you the same, love," he said, smirking again. Always smirking. Emma really kind of wanted to ask him if it was some kind of tic or something that caused it. Annoying, smug, handsome bastard.

She fixed him with a bored expression. "And what would I need your help with, exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know," he said, eyes glinting with mischief. "Might need someone to help you scrub all those hard-to-reach places, yeah?"

Emma gaped at him for half a second before she used her free hand to grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him back into her room. He chuckled. "Knew it was all just a pretense to get me alone," he said, leaning in, his arms going around her.

She shoved him back, shaking her head at him, her eyes flashing. "You have to stop that!" she hissed at him. "If you are going to stay here, in _my_ house, with _my_ family, with _my son _around, you can't keep making these innuendos, got it?"

His smirk didn't exactly vanish, but his expression did regain some semblance of seriousness at her expression and the tone in her voice. "All right, all right," he said, holding up his hand in surrender. "I'll behave. Pirate's honor."

She glared at him. "That's not worth much," she told him, pushing past him to open the door so she could leave. "This is where you're staying … for now," she muttered before she pulled the door open. "Don't touch my stuff."

"So you've said," he said, voice low, and she realized then just how close he was standing to her … again. She did her best to ignore the goosebumps that rose on her skin when he spoke in that tone, glad to be wearing a long-sleeved sweater right now.

Her eyes flicked up to his and held for a beat too long. There was something unreadable in his impossibly blue eyes, and it made her heart flutter in a way that it hadn't in a very long time. He reached up with his hand then, pushing a strand of her blonde hair behind one ear. "One day, Emma," he said softly, but he didn't finish whatever thought came next.

It was okay though. His words jarred her from her reverie, and she turned away then. "Not gonna happen," she breathed before she left the room.


	4. Chapter Three: The Empress

**A/N: **This chapter just did not want to end! But I really like this one, even though nothing much happens in it. We're up to The Empress, which symbolizes the promise of something new and wonderful. ;) It is also the card in the Tarot that symbolizes a mother-figure … so there's some Henry and Emma stuff in this one. I know I keep promising that big things are coming with this fic, and they ARE, but until we get to Fortune (and I'm not saying when that is), it's all sort of these little snippets showing how Emma and Hook are embarking on this … _thing_ they are embarking on together. So, I hope you enjoy! And thanks again to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed ... I love you all!

**Chapter Three**  
_**The Empress**_  
_"It's the heart that really matters in the end … "_

Emma didn't sleep well that night. The couch was hideously uncomfortable, and she didn't even want to go into what the hell her dreams were doing when she _did _manage to doze off.

Stupid pirate. Couldn't even get a break from him while she slept.

Needless to say, she was up well before dawn, bent over the counter, staring impatiently at the coffeepot as it brewed far too slowly for her liking.

"I thought your superpower was detecting falsehoods, not cooking by telekinesis."

Emma jumped at the sound of his voice, making a face as she turned around. She was going to have to put a little bell on him, just so he'd stop sneaking up on her. "This is not cooking. This is coffee." She eyed him warily as he took a seat on one of the barstools. He looked wide awake, already dressed and ready to face the day. Bastard. "Why are you up so early?"

"This is early?" he asked, quirking a brow at her.

"It's six am. It's pretty early," she told him.

"Well, then, why are _you _awake?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "Not tired, I guess," she lied.

He shook his head at her. "For someone who can detect lies, you're rubbish at telling them, darling," he said with a grin. "It's quite endearing, actually."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not lying," she said. "And I'm not your darling."

He grinned. "Well, I wouldn't mind still being abed," he said, stretching his arms above his head then. Emma quickly looked back at the coffeepot instead of letting her eyes linger on the expanse of skin on his abdomen that showed as his shirt rode up. "I was having a bloody marvelous dream."

She made the mistake of looking back at him, found that he was giving her a wicked smirk.

"I'm not going to ask you what it was about," she told him dryly.

"And I wouldn't tell you anyway," he quipped lightly, then winked. "You were in it, though."

"Was I beating you to death?" she countered evenly. "Because _I'd _consider that a marvelous dream."

"Alas, no," he said, feigning disappointment. "In my dream, you're a bit more … agreeable." Again with the smirk. She didn't even want to know what was going on in that head of his.

"Seriously? Ew," she said, wrinkling her nose at him, earning a chuckle from the pirate. The coffee finished brewing then, mercifully giving her a chance to focus on something aside from the rapid pounding of her heart. She poured two cups, handing one to him.

He eyed it. "What is this?" he asked her, sniffing it.

She shook her head, a grin threatening the corners of her lips then. "It's life," she told him, sitting down on the barstool next to him. "I don't function without it. You've seriously never had coffee?"

"Guess there's a first time for everything," he said, raising his mug to her.

"You never forget your first," she muttered, bringing her own cup to her lips, her eyes watching him over the rim as he took his first sip.

His face contorted as soon as the liquid touched his lips. "What in the _bloody hell_ is this?" he asked her, coughing a little. "Are you trying to _poison _me?"

Emma tried to bite back her laughter, but failed, covering her mouth so as not to wake up everyone else. "Seriously, you drink the equivalent of lighter fluid, and you're going to complain about coffee?" She shook her head, still laughing a little as she reached for his cup then. "Give it here."

"Gladly," he said, shoving the cup her way.

She hopped up off her own barstool, taking his cup over to the counter with her. She pulled open the fridge, looking around for a moment before she found what she was looking for. She took the half-and-half, pouring a little bit into the coffee, then added a teaspoon of sugar into the mix, stirring it up and turning back around. She moved back over to sit next to him again, sliding the cup across the countertop to him. "Here ya go, princess," she said with a grin.

"You actually expect me to ingest that again, on purpose?" he asked her, giving her a look that said "you are out of your mind".

She sighed. "Oh, stop. I fixed it," she said. "Just … trust me, okay?"

His eyes flicked to hers, that same unreadable expression she'd seen the previous evening flashing through them again. "All right," he said, after a long moment, his fingertips brushing over hers as he reached to take the cup from her then. He kept his eyes on hers as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a _very _tentative sip. His eyebrows raised a bit then.

"See?" she said, finally making herself look away from him.

"I do," he said, smiling and taking another sip. "I bow down to you."

"Soon you won't be able to function without it," she said, returning his smile. "Just like the rest of us."

"Oh, just what I need," he said lightly, his eyes roaming her face, lingering on her lips for a bit too long. "Another vice." His eyes finally met hers again, and she shifted a little in her seat under the intensity of his blue gaze.

"I have to go to the station," she said then, downing the rest of her coffee, mindless of the burn of it on her throat. She didn't really have to go, she'd planned on taking the day off anyway. But she had to get away from him, and soon.

"Emma," he said, but she was already on her feet, taking her cup to the sink.

"I just have to pick up some files," she said, ignoring the imploring tone in his voice. "I won't be long, I'll work from home today. Just … stay here til I get back. Please."

"Putting me under house arrest, are you?" he asked, the teasing grin back on his lips, as though the intensity of the moment before was just forgotten.

"Please, Hook," she said, her brow furrowed. "Just … stay here. Gold — Rumplestiltskin … he's dangerous. And you don't know this place yet."

"I'm touched that you care so much," he said, and he was still smiling, but there was an edge in his voice. Emma wondered what that was all about, but couldn't spare any more time on it, because that was when Mary-Margaret, David, and Henry all made their way into the kitchen.

She cast a glance at the clock, a little startled to see that it was nearly eight … had she and Killian really been just sitting and talking for that long? She ignored the looks that passed between the three of them as they entered the kitchen.

"I have to go to the station," Emma said. "He stays here til I get back."

"If I wanted to leave, love, it'd take more than this lot to stop me," he pointed out.

"If you hurt a hair on any of their heads, I will cut off your other hand," Emma said through gritted teeth then.

"Ooh, she's feisty, isn't she?" Killian said with that annoying smirk of his.

"And she means what she says," Mary-Margaret told him pointedly.

"Uh, I think we can handle it," David said, seemingly a little insulted at the insinuation that he couldn't look after his family.

"Okay, okay," Emma muttered, throwing up her hands and making her way over toward the chair in the living room where she'd set her clothes for the day. "I'll only be gone for an hour or so." She gathered up her things and made her way to the bathroom, grateful for the respite.

So bringing him here might not have been her best plan, after all.

He was just _there_, all the time, and with the looks and the innuendos … she was meant to be proving a point, the problem was she kept forgetting what that point was, and having to start all over. She didn't want to be feeling these things, and certainly not for Killian Jones, of all people. She never was sure if he was sincere or if it was all just a game … and it was a risk she wasn't willing to take, no matter how drawn to him she felt.

She couldn't afford any more mistakes where her heart was concerned.

She splashed water on her face, pushing all thoughts for everything except for her work. She reminded herself to stop by the diner to tell Ruby there was a change in plans, too. She hoped she hadn't kept them waiting for her and Killian in vain.

She exited the bathroom once she was showered and dressed and presentable, grabbing her blue leather jacket off the hook by the door, frowning as she heard the sound of animated talking from the kitchen.

Seriously, how did he manage it? He wasn't supposed to be charming the hell out of her family.

Or her.

Nothing was going the way it was meant to.

She slammed the door a little harder than necessary when she left. She knew it was petty, but it was sort of therapeutic, and she felt better for it.

A little anyway.

She drove to Granny's, wanting to talk to Ruby as soon as possible. She really did feel bad for not calling them, and she was running over her explanation in her mind as she entered the diner.

Ruby was wiping down one of the tables, and when she saw Emma, she fixed her with a grin. "Something happened with mystery man, huh?"

"What?" Emma asked, blinking a bit. "No, nothing happened. I mean, well, there was a … change of plans and I forgot to call you and I'm sorry about that," she said in a rush. She made a face. So much for her carefully worded apology.

"What'd you do with him, anyway?" Ruby wanted to know, moving back behind the counter to get Emma her normal cup of coffee. It was Saturday morning, and relatively early, so there weren't many other patrons, which meant Ruby had plenty of time to pester her.

Emma made a face as she leaned against the countertop. "Took him home with me?" she said, knowing that wasn't going to come out right.

Ruby cocked an eyebrow, grin widening. "Well, well, Ms. Swan. Didn't know you had it in you," she teased.

"Not like that," Emma said dryly, taking the paper cup of coffee from Ruby and placing a lid over it. "The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to get you or Granny mixed up in all this. It's my responsibility, so I should be the one to have to deal with it." She sighed heavily. "I just have to figure out something. I can't keep him shut in at Mary-Margaret's indefinitely." She shook her head, tapping the top of the counter then. "But this isn't your problem. Thanks for the coffee, and I'm sorry about last night."

"No worries," Ruby said good-naturedly. "But I do want to meet this guy of yours sometime," she said. "My interest is very piqued."

"Maybe we'll come by later. So long as Mr. Gold isn't around, I think it'll be all right." Emma smiled and gave a little wave as she headed out of the diner again, getting into her car and making her way to the station then.

She really didn't do much when she got there, things were quiet, which was a little unsettling, if you asked her. Mostly she just used the time to try to _not _think about all the little moments she and Killian kept having, whether she wanted them or not.

She just didn't know what she was going to do about him. He wasn't a prisoner, so she couldn't very well keep him under house arrest. But he also didn't know anything about this world.

She supposed she'd have to do something about that. Show him around or … something. Without even realizing it, she'd started making a list of all the places in and around Storybrooke's city limits that she thought he might be interested in.

She drew hearts in the margins absentmindedly when she took a call that ended up being a wrong number.

When she looked down at what she'd done, she made a disgusted face. "Seriously, Emma?" she muttered, crumpling up the paper and tossing it into the wastepaper basket.

She did a few other things around the office, tidying it up a bit, sweeping the floor and dusting off the cabinets, anything to keep her busy and her mind occupied for awhile. When she finally took a break, she looked over at the clock, wincing when she saw how close to noon it was.

She'd been gone for nearly four hours. Considering she'd only planned to be gone for about one, she figured she probably better head back.

She was going to miss the peace and quiet.

The first thing she noticed when she walked into the apartment was the distinct lack of … well, anyone. She wondered if they'd all gone out, and frowned. Surely not …

Then she heard it. It was a sound she hadn't heard a lot of these days, a sound that warmed her heart and made her smile … the sound of Henry's laughter. She hung her jacket beside the door again, then followed the sound to the living room, wanting to know what it was that was making him laugh now. She heard a deeper chuckle as she approached, and her brow furrowed.

"What are you … " She trailed off, finding Henry sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the cushion beside him, and Killian on the far end of the couch, feet propped up on the coffeetable. The television was on, and they were both watching it.

"What's going on?" she asked, frowning a bit at the scene, confused. It was so … domestic and … and it felt like what coming home from a long day at work should feel like, but that wasn't _right_, none of it was right, nothing made sense.

"Hi, Mom!" Henry said cheerfully, grinning at her.

"Hi," Emma said, still confused.

"'ello, love," Killian said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Not your love," she told him. "And get your feet off of Mary-Margaret's table."

He looked over at Henry and they shared a look before Killian rolled his eyes and moved his feet. "Happy now, darling?" he asked her.

"My name is _Emma_," she told him, speaking slowly and enunciating every word, since he clearly seemed to be missing that point. "And what are you two watching in here, anyway?"

"Peter Pan," Henry said, taking a handful of popcorn.

"Why?" Emma asked, brow raised.

Henry shrugged. "Killian wanted to know how it was people from our world knew about him," he said, laughing a little.

Emma raised her brow at that. "Killian?" she asked, wondering at the ease in which Henry said that. In her mind, she called him Killian, but out loud — out loud, it was _always _Hook. It seemed far too … familiar any other way.

"Well, that's my name, innit?" he said then, craning his neck a bit to see the screen. "Shove over a bit, love, you're blocking the … magic box thing," he said with a wave of his hand.

She bit back a grin at that. "The TV?" She turned her head then to look at the screen, a small smile playing on her lips when the animated Captain Hook came into view. "So what do you think of our world's take on you?" she couldn't help asking then.

"Bloody insulting," he muttered, making a face. Henry laughed, and Emma cocked her head, considering.

"I dunno," she said with a shrug. "Seems like a pretty good likeness to me."

"Oh, aren't you just hilarious?" Killian said, fixing her with a droll look, but there was an amused light in his eyes. "And what's with the bloody crocodile? It wasn't a _real _crocodile, I'll have you know."

Emma shook her head, trying hard not to be amused by his indignance, but it was just so … cute. "Where did Mary-Margaret and David go?" she asked Henry, trying to distract herself.

"David just left, had to run out for a bit. Mary-Margaret's upstairs, cleaning," Henry told her, eyes back on the screen.

"They got Neverland just about right," Killian mused as he turned his attention back to the movie, though Emma knew he kept casting glances back in her direction.

"Those mermaids are a lot of bloody harridans." He shook his head, shuddering a bit, then stood up. "I think I've taken enough blows to my ego for one day," he told Henry with a grin. "Besides, I'm getting an aching head from all the flashing lights and the noise."

Emma frowned. She supposed she hadn't taken into account just how much adjusting he was going to need to this world. "Go lie down," she told him, nodding. "Really, it'll help. And, here … Henry, I'll be right back." She moved into the kitchen, knowing that Killian wasn't far behind. She opened up one of the cabinets and pulled out a small bottle, shaking two pills into her hand and then grabbing a bottle of water, turning and handing it to him. "It'll make the headache go away," she told him. "I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't even thinking … "

"You're not to blame for me needing to acclimate myself to your realm," he told her kindly, taking the water and the pain relievers from her. "Though I know of a few more enjoyable ways to rid oneself of a headache … "

She gave him a look. "Hook … "

"Emma," he said, mocking her tone with a grin. He brushed a finger over the tip of her nose, leaning in close. Personal space invader, thy name is Killian Jones. "You have dirt on your nose."

"I was cleaning," she said with a shrug, taking a step back then. "Go rest or your head's going to explode, and I don't really want to have to clean _that _mess up."

"All right," he said, giving her one last grin and then heading up the stairs toward Emma's room. She was a little surprised that he let it go that easily. She didn't know why it mattered so much, but she couldn't help but feel a little responsible, and she vowed she'd try to make it easier on him.

"He likes you, you know."

Henry's voice from behind her snapped her out of her reverie and she turned to face him, giving him a wry smile. "Is that so?" she said, shaking her head at him. "What makes you so sure?"

"Can just tell," he said in that enigmatic way of his.

"Uh-huh," Emma said, eyeing him suspiciously. "I think you're not telling me something." She shifted a little. "What did he say?"

Henry just shrugged, giving her a grin. "I'm not sure you're ready."

She narrowed her eyes at him. Yup, it was official. Her kid was a brat.


	5. Chapter Four: The Emperor

**A/N: **I'm sort of freaking out (in a good way) about how many of you are favoriting this, following it, reviewing it ... I am SO GLAD you guys like this, I really really can't say it enough. I'm so excited to get to the next parts of the fic, because I am dying to share the rest of this story with all of you. So here's the next part!

The Emperor. He is logical, prudent, and commanding. He is the father-figure. In this fic, he is David. (Yay for Daddy Charming and Daughter Emma stuff!) And this is where everything starts to change. I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Four**  
_**The Emperor**_  
_"And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged … "_

"You might think about a wardrobe change," Emma mused one morning as she and Killian sat in the kitchen, in what had become something of a ritual for them over the past week or so. They both seemed to wake up before everyone else, and it gave them an hour where they were the only two people that seemed to matter.

Emma would never admit it, but she was really starting to enjoy having this bastard around. Which was slightly disconcerting, but for the moment, she was pushing that aside.

He frowned at her over the rim of his coffee cup. "What's wrong with my clothes?" he asked her. That was another thing. She had gotten him completely hooked (no pun intended) on coffee. As long as it had lots of cream and sugar in it. Pansy.

She had to bite back a laugh. "You stick out like a sore thumb," she told him. "I mean, we're trying to keep you on a low profile, and yet, you're still dressing like … that." She gestured with her hand to his ensemble, which was about as cliche fantasy pirate (and hot, but she was choosing to ignore _that_part) as it got.

He shook his head. "I'm sure the fact that I've only got one hand will completely escape people's notice then?" he said, quirking a brow. "Darling, I think you're worrying about the wrong things. Incidentally, when are you going to give me back my hook?"

"No," Emma said, shaking her head. "You don't need it! Not here."

"But it's mine, innit?" he returned evenly, leaning in a bit and lowering his voice. "What exactly are you doing with it, hmm?"

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have to make _everything_ sound so … " She trailed off, not even sure what the correct word to use was. He just had this way of making her mind go straight to places it _didn't_need to go with the most innocent of phrases.

"So … ?" he pressed, that annoying smirk back on his face.

"Annoying," she finished, making a face at him.

He chuckled. "That's not what you were going to say," he said, a lilt in his voice that Emma found just fascinating. He certainly knew how to use things to his advantage, didn't he?

"Well, too bad for you, you'll never know the truth," she said with a shrug.

"Oh, I bet I could get it out of you," he said, his expression still teasing, but his tone was different. It held weight to it, the weight that always made Emma feel a little skittish around him.

She drained the rest of her coffee then and stood up.

"Oh, is it already time for this part of the morning then?" Killian said, fixing her with an expression that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She moved over to the sink and began scrubbing unnecessarily at her coffee cup.

"Right, of course not," he said, and this time there was bite in his words. Emma frowned down at the cup in her hands.

He was right behind her, he wasn't touching her, but she felt him all the same. He had a way of enveloping her, the scent of him that always reminded her of the ocean, the way her skin prickled at his nearness, as if her body was screaming out that he was _it_.

But she didn't want him to be it. Or, she did, but the idea of even having an "it" was too much for her to deal with right now.

She closed her eyes, refusing to turn around, knowing that if she did, she'd be face to face with him, close enough to feel his breath, and she might not be able to stop herself if she was …

"What do you want?" she asked, her hands still submerged in soapy water, part of her hoping he'd back away, the other part wishing he'd just spin her around and make the decision for her.

"You know," he said, his voice very quiet. "The very same thing you're afraid to admit that you want." His hand was on her upper arm now, and her heart was thudding rapidly. She prepared herself for what she knew was coming …

… but it never did.

"Morning."

David's voice made Emma jump, and she whirled around to see that Killian had backed off considerably, though his expression looked pained as he watched her. She didn't like the guilty feeling she felt in her gut, she hadn't done anything wrong, and she knew it. But she wasn't out to hurt anyone, either.

If Killian was even sincere. And she still wasn't 100% sure … it was one of the reasons that she was keeping her distance, even now. It was hard for her to accept that someone might actually be interested enough in her, in _Emma_, to be hurt if she wasn't interested back. Not that she _wasn't_interested back …

God, she had a headache.

"Morning," she finally said to David, who was looking between her and Killian with an unreadable expression on his face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fine," he said with a nod, making his way over to the coffeepot. "You?"

"Uh-huh," she said, rinsing off her hands and then stepping away from the sink. "I gotta get ready for work." Her eyes flicked back to Killian before she made her way out of the kitchen. He was looking at her with a different kind of unreadable expression.

Once she was safely ensconced in the bathroom, she leaned back against the door, closing her eyes and taking her first deep breath since before David had interrupted … whatever it was he'd interrupted.

This was not what she had planned at all. She could feel him getting under her skin, worming his way ever closer to her … and it made her want to run. She wanted to run far, far away and not look back, but she couldn't _do_that now. She wasn't 18 any more, running away wasn't how grown-ups dealt with their issues.

For once, she was actually glad to have the excuse of work to keep her mind off of everything else. Hell, maybe she'd even put in some overtime.

Overtime would be awesome.

Until she opened her desk drawer and saw Killian's hook sitting on top of some of the files. She made a face. She really should give it back to him. She had a flash of him, pulling her back to him after they'd climbed that damned beanstalk, insisting that she needed her hand tended to.

She bit her lip and slammed the desk drawer shut, trying to ignore the shiver that went through her at the memory. It wasn't okay to be this affected by someone. It had never ended well for her before …

"Is this a bad time?"

David's voice again. Frowning, Emma looked up to see him standing in the doorway.

"No, not at all," she said, wondering why he was here. Hoping it wasn't because of that morning. "What's up?"

"Was going to ask you the same thing," he said. She could tell he was nervous about being here, talking to her, so whatever it was, she was pretty sure it did have to do with the very thing she was trying to avoid thinking about.

Great.

"What do you mean?" she asked, absently flicking through some files.

"Emma … I don't want to … overstep, or … presume, but … " he sighed. "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" Emma asked, still not looking at him. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Are you?" he said. "This morning … "

Emma held up her hand then. "No," she said, finally raising her head to look at him. Her eyes flashed. "We are not talking about this."

"I think you need to talk to someone about it!" David said, and Emma was slightly taken aback by the vehemence in his voice. "I'm sorry," he said, rubbing his forehead lightly with his hand. Emma just watched him, her mind flipping over the fact in her mind that this was her father … and maybe for the first time ever, he was acting like it. Part of her sort of liked it.

The other part of her resented the hell out of him for making her think about Killian again.

"What is there to talk about?" she said tiredly. "There's _nothing_ to talk about. He's a pain in the ass with absolutely no concept of personal space. _That's_ what you walked in on this morning, nothing more."

Wow, that was pretty good. She almost believed that one herself.

"The way that he looks at you would suggest otherwise," David said, his voice quieter now.

Emma's heart flip-flopped a little. "Wh - what way?" she asked after a long moment, hating how shaky her voice came out.

David sighed heavily. "The way I assume I looked at Snow when I was falling in love with her."

Emma blinked, and then started laughing. She couldn't help it. It was absolutely ridiculous, what David was saying. There was just … no way. "If you want him out of the apartment, I'm sure you could come up with something better," she said when she'd calmed down.

"Emma, I'm serious," David said, his expression unchanged.

"You're saying," Emma said, trying hard not to crack up again, "that Hook — _Captain Hook_ — is in love with me?" She shook her head, trying to ignore the slightly shrill, hysterical tone her voice had taken on then.

"I'm not saying that … I'm just saying what I see," David said. "And it's definitely not just your friendship he wants."

"I can take care of myself, David," Emma said. "Been doing all right so far, haven't I?"

"Emma, it's not a surprise that a man would be interested in you," David said. "You're your mother's daughter after all." He smiled a little. "You're strong, and you're smart, and you're beautiful … I'd have more questions if he _wasn't_ interested."

"So then _what_ is your problem?" Emma asked, on the verge of complete exasperation at this point.

"You look at him the same way."

Emma's head snapped up, looking for the slightest hint that David was fucking with her. "I do _not_," she scoffed, finding no hint of amusement on his face.

He shook his head. "Emma," he said. "When you think no one's looking, you sneak glances at him. And when you turned around this morning when I walked in … I'm not saying you love him. I'm not saying anything. But whatever it is that you're denying that you feel … it's written all over your face."

"You're out of your mind," Emma said, shaking her head. "And you're way out of line. I don't have … _feelings_ for him. I mean … I like him, sure, and he's good company but I'm not … I don't … " She frowned. "I barely know him, David. You can't have feelings like that for someone you barely know."

"Can't you?" he said, eyebrow arched.

"Maybe you can," Emma muttered. "You're Prince Fucking Charming. But I'm _not_ a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale … I grew up in the real world, and in the real world, you learn quick to guard your heart."

"I didn't come here to upset you," he said. "It's just … Emma, what do you think is going to happen, if you let things keep going this way? You think whatever you are or aren't feeling now is going to … what? Disappear? I thought that would happen too, once." He shook his head. "If it's there, it's not going anywhere."

Emma couldn't concentrate on anything the rest of the afternoon, hard as she tried. Every time she tried to do something, David's words came rushing back to her.

It was ridiculous. It was _stupid_. She wasn't _falling_ for Killian. He certainly wasn't in love with _her_. They were just … friends. Sure, he was always making his innuendos and sly comments, but that was just who he was.

It didn't _mean_ anything.

It was shortly before four when she finally left the sheriff's station, her nerves completely shot. She was keyed-up and antsy, and she knew she had to do something. If David was noticing things that were _absolutely not there_ … well, things couldn't continue this way.

The apartment was quiet when she got back, and she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. She moved into the kitchen after hanging up her jacket and scarf — it was starting to become much more fall-like outside these days — and set about making herself some hot cocoa. That always helped calm her down.

Killian entered the kitchen a few minutes later, and Emma blinked a bit. His hair was damp, as though he'd just gotten out of the shower, and he was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He must've borrowed some of David's old clothes. She honestly wasn't sure how to react to this change … he looked good. _Really_ good. It was sort of jarring to see him out of his pirate garb though.

She missed it, actually. He didn't seem quite … _Killian_ without it.

"Well, love, are you going to say anything?" he asked her after a minute. "It was your idea, after all." He gave her a grin, and she let out a sigh of relief. Of course, he was acting like nothing that had happened this morning had happened.

Because it didn't _matter_. He didn't have _feelings_ for her. She was being _stupid_.

And she knew what she needed to do.

She took a deep breath then, steeling herself for what she had to do now. "Hook, we need to talk."


	6. Chapter Five: The Hierophant

**A/N: **So here's where everything kinda starts falling into place here for what's to come later in the fic. This chapter is a little angsty, but it's necessary angst. This is the chapter based on The Hierophant, and The Hierophant is all about the "tried and true" and sticking to what's always worked in the past. Which is exactly what Emma's _trying_ to do. Also, Gold is in this chapter. And let me just say now, that I love Rumple, but this is a story about Emma and Killian, and as such, some things might come across slightly biased in that way, since, ya know, Killian's still pretty pissed about his hand and Milah. I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one that I will post after this one, is my favorite so far, so ... look forward to that one. ;)

**Chapter Five**  
_**The Hierophant**_  
_"I know that I am nothing new, there's so much more to me and you … "_

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She hadn't actually meant to say that … what the hell was she supposed to do now? She wasn't about to confess any feelings she may or may not (she definitely _did not_) have.

But how else could she make him understand why she was doing this? Why she _had_ to do this?

Killian gave her a sort of crooked smile. "Do those words mean the same thing in this realm as they do in mine?" he asked her, and she could tell he was forcing the levity in his voice.

"They mean we have to talk," she said, her own voice a little tight.

They were standing on opposite sides of the counter in the kitchen, the counter they'd shared many a morning at for almost a month now. But everything was different now. Regardless of what David said, whether or not it was even true … Emma knew things couldn't go on like this. This wasn't just about her, it was about her family too.

At least, that's what she was telling herself.

"I'm waiting," he said after several long, heavy moments of silence. The room seemed to be full of all the things they weren't saying, Emma swore she could choke on them.

She sighed heavily. "It's not working," she said, more quietly than she had intended.

That wasn't what she'd meant to say either. "It's not working _out_," or "this is no longer a good idea" … something like that, that would have made more sense.

But it wouldn't have been the truth. "It's not working" _was_ the truth. Everything she'd tried to do when it came to him, all of it … none of it had gone according to plan. She was supposed to be sick of him by now, she was supposed to want him out of her sight, out of her vicinity, out of her thoughts …

Instead she wanted the opposite, and she _couldn't_ want that.

Not again. Not ever again.

And not him, of all people. God, not him.

_Or only him …_ she did her best to quell the small voice in her head that was continually pushing her his way, against all her better judgement. That part of her was telling her to curl her fingers in the front of his shirt and pull him closer, finally, at last … but she wouldn't. She _couldn't._

She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even realize that he'd moved to stand right in front of her, his hand and his … arm on her shoulders, turning her to face him. "_What's_ not working?" he asked, his voice just as quiet.

He was so close, and he smelled like soap and water from the shower, but still with that ever-present scent that reminded her of the sea … _she had always wanted to live near the ocean_ a little voice in her head chimed, but she pushed away the thought and tried to focus on what she was doing here.

She made herself look up at him then, made herself meet his eyes with her own. She was an adult, it was time to start acting like it.

It was then that she saw the amused glint in his too-blue eyes, the smirk that was playing on the corners of his lips.

The bastard was enjoying this! It was like he was expecting her to … to _confess_ something, and his expression said that he'd known it all along.

_As if she'd give him the satisfaction._

Her temper flared then, and she gave him a shove backwards. "I'm glad this is a joke to you!" she snapped, hands curling into fists, and she honestly wasn't sure if she was going to punch him or not.

"Emma, I'm not laughing," he said, his expression all seriousness then. "What is it that's got you so upset, love?"

"I'm not your love!" she shouted, unable to bear it any more. "I'm not your darling, or your lass, or any other name you've called me since we met. My name is _Emma_ and I'm the sheriff of this town, and it's my responsibility to look after the citizens. And that _unfortunately_ includes you now!"

"What is it you're saying, then?" he asked her, his tone even and clipped.

"I'm saying that _this_," she gestured back and forth between the two of them, "it's not working. You can't stay here any more, Hook."

"And you're not even going to give me more of a reason than that, _love_?" he said, emphasizing the last word with a smirk that was no longer teasing, and every bit as villainous as his reputation would have you believe.

"What reason do you need?" Emma asked him, doing her best to calm down, but it didn't seem to be working. "I have a responsibility to you, but that doesn't mean I have to have you under my roof, always around, constantly."

"So all this time, we've been talking, getting to know each other, and it just means _nothing_? I've just been Emma Swan's pet project?" he asked her, an edge to his voice that she'd never heard him use prior to this. He was … he was _angry_ with her. But _why_? She couldn't begin to fathom it.

"Of course it doesn't mean nothing!" she shouted, feeling herself flagging, feeling it all crumbling. "That's not … " She leaned against the counter, not even sure what she wanted to say any more.

He was in front of her again, his hand tilting up her face to look at him. He leaned in, and his breath was hot against her ear. "Bloody well _say_ it, Emma," he breathed, and she could feel the anger rolling off of him, the hurt … the longing? "You're shoving me out the door, you damn well need to give me a reason. A _real_ one."

She smacked his hand away from her face, turning away. "What do you _want_ me to say?" she said, her voice barely a whisper, all the anger, all the fight gone from her. She was terrified right now … not of him, no. He wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't sure of much right now, but of that, she was absolutely certain. No, she was terrified of herself, of the things that she was feeling.

_She didn't want to feel this way._

"You're terrified, darling," he said, and the look in his eyes was defeated. "You think you're hiding it so well, but you're shaking, and it's all over your face. I just want to know _why_."

She gritted her teeth and made herself look back at him again. "If you've got me pegged so well, why don't you just tell me so we can get this over with?" she spat.

He slammed his hand down on the countertop then. "Because I want to hear it from _you_. Why are you so bloody afraid of me?"

She laughed then, it was almost an hysterical reaction. "You're so sure of yourself, aren't you?" she snapped. "What makes you think this has _anything_ to do with you at all?"

"Emma, I am not the only one who's fall — " He trailed off at the sound of the door opening, and Emma had never been more grateful — or more pissed off — for anything in her entire life.

What the _hell_ had he been about to say?

"Emma," he said, looking at her, his eyes imploring.

Emma shook her head. She couldn't let this continue, she had to stop it _now_ before it was too late. _It's already too late,_ that damned voice chimed again.  
"I've made my decision," she said, as Henry entered the kitchen then, looking back and forth between the two of them, his expression concerned.

Killian's eyes flicked over to Henry, then back to Emma, and he sighed heavily.

"Then there's nothing more for me to say right now," he said. His eyes bore into hers then. His hand clasped hers, and he pulled her closer, close enough so that he could breathe in her ear again. "But you're out of your mind if you think this conversation is over."

She swallowed thickly, not knowing what else there was to say. "I'll take you to the inn," she managed to say, taking a step back, hoping that he'd release her hand then, and he did, and she hated that she wished he'd held on a bit longer.

"Don't bloody bother," he said, giving her one last look before moving away from the counter. "I'll find it on my own."

"Hook," Emma began, not knowing what she was going to say next.

He gave her a look, but didn't say anything else. He ruffled Henry's hair slightly as he walked past him and to the door, slamming it behind him when he left. Emma winced at the sound, her eyes glued to the door as if she expected him to come back at any second. She reminded herself that this was for the best.

"So," Henry said after several long minutes. "Rough day?"

Emma looked at him and managed a wry smile. "It had to be done," she said, shrugging, her whole body sagging against the countertop then.

"Why?" Henry asked, sitting down on one of the stools.

"Because," Emma said, brow furrowed. "I mean, we barely have room for the four of us, let alone someone else, and it's just … what if Mr. Gold found out about him being here? I can't have all of you in danger … "

"And what's the real reason?" Henry asked, giving her that look of his that made her shift uncomfortably, as though she were being judged.

"That is the real reason," she said, giving him a look that warned him to drop it.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Henry said with a shrug.

"What?" Emma asked, scoffing. "I did not. He was pissed off, not … hurt."

"No, he was," Henry said, without explaining himself further.

"Stop being so perceptive," Emma told him irritably, to which he grinned. "So you really think I should've let him stay?" she asked then.

He shrugged. "Maybe not. But he was right about you being scared."

"You heard that part, huh?" she said, making a face and turning her attention back to her hot cocoa, which had long since grown cold.

"You do push people away, when you're scared of getting too close," he said. "You did it to me, too."

She made a face. Henry was way too smart to be a kid of hers. "He's a pirate, though," she protested. "Like, a really bad one!"

"Because all the stories are _always _true, right?" he said with a grin.

"Oh, be quiet," Emma laughed then, unable to help herself.

"It doesn't matter," Henry said then. "He'll be back, anyway."

Emma smiled sadly then. "No he won't," she said, shaking her head. "I said some pretty mean things, Henry, and I haven't exactly been the nicest person to be around lately. People don't want to put up with that if they don't have to."

"Not everyone's going to abandon you."

"Not everyone," Emma conceded. "Just about 98% of them." She sighed and pushed away from the counter then. "I need some air. You all right for a few minutes?"

Henry nodded. "You want some company?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not this time, buddy," she said, and luckily, Henry understood. She grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door and headed out into the brisk autumn evening.

She pushed open the door leading out of the apartment building and nearly hit someone who was coming inside. Her heart thudded when she looked up and saw who it was.

"Mr. Gold," she said, eyes wide. "What brings you here this evening?"

"Well, I came to see you, Ms. Swan," he said in that soft-spoken way of his.

"Um, is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, on the contrary," he said, smiling quickly. "I just heard a … disconcerting rumor, and I wanted to give you a bit of a warning, is all."

Emma's brow furrowed. "Warning about what?" she asked, confused.

"Well, when you, your mother, Mulan, and Aurora came back from … the other side … it seems that you had an extra passenger who crossed over with you."

_Shit._

"Oh?" Emma asked, cocking her head to the side, hoping desperately that her face didn't give anything away.

"He's a pirate, Ms. Swan, and he's very dangerous, and not to be trusted. You may know him as Captain Hook. I should imagine he'd stick out in a town like Storybrooke, and I'd urge you to be on your guard should you encounter him."

Emma managed a small smile. "Well, I haven't heard anything about any pirates around these parts, Mr. Gold, but I promise I'll be careful."

"That's all well and good," Mr. Gold said, "but I'd rather you just send him to me, should you cross paths. He and I have a bit of … unfinished business."

Emma's stomach flipped. There was no way Gold had anything good planned for that particular meeting, and in no way was she eager to see it come to pass. True, Mr. Gold had helped her out in the past … but she didn't trust him. And if half of what Killian had told her was true …

"I … I will definitely do that," she managed to say at last. "Was there anything else?"

"Only this," Gold said, leaning a bit on his cane as he focused all his attention on her now. "The man stole something precious from me, and I will see him pay … and anyone who helps him will suffer the same."

Emma bit back the words on her tongue, the ones that said that taking his hand and his love away was _enough_… but she knew better than to say it out loud. "I understand," she said, nodding. "I will let you know if … if I hear anything."

"Very good," Gold said with a nod. "Have a lovely evening, Ms. Swan."

As he walked away, Emma watched him go, and she had the sinking feeling in her stomach that this was only the beginning. Mr. Gold wasn't about to let any slight against him go, and Killian had his own grudges against the man he called his "Crocodile".

She knew Killian was brave and resourceful, strong and quick … but Mr. Gold — Rumplestiltskin — he was a powerful sorcerer, one who had already bested Killian at least once. And this time, she had no doubt, it would be more than a hand that her pirate would lose.

(Wait a second … _her _pirate?) "Stop it, Emma," she muttered to herself.

She wouldn't let him do it again. She may not have had it all sorted out in her head, what she felt for Killian, what she wanted from him … but she knew that him getting hurt was not something she could allow, not ever.

Mr. Gold had long since disappeared down the road that lead back to his shop, and Emma started in the opposite direction, heading for Granny's bed and breakfast, and hoping, hoping, that Killian was safe there.

She was just going to have to swallow her pride and go to him. He had to know that he was being sought.

And losing him was not something she was willing to do. That much … that much she _could_ admit.


	7. Chapter Six: The Lovers

**A/N: **Well, here we are at The Lovers. I don't think anyone will be disappointed with this — this is my favorite chapter, thus far (I have another favorite already outlined, a bit further down the line in this fic, but for now, this one wins). It's not THAT kinda chapter, though, guys. ;) Come on, it's wayyyy too early for that!

The Lovers in the Tarot symbolize a LOT of things … the major ones being temptation, and the point of no return. From this point on, things are going to start to change. Enjoy!

**Chapter Six**  
_**The Lovers**_  
_"If I fall for you, I'll never recover. If I fall for you, I'll never be the same … "_

Emma went to the sheriff's station first, her pride not allowing her to immediately go to the bed and breakfast. And she knew that was stupid, because Gold knowing that Killian was in Storybrooke was way bigger than her ego.

But it didn't matter. She needed time to think, time to figure out what the hell she was even going to say to him, after … well, after their fight.

What had that even been about? What did it _matter_ where he stayed? He was still in Storybrooke, after all. What had he been so mad about? And why had she taken the bait? She'd _yelled _at him, and it had been awhile since she'd been angry enough to yell.

Oh, she got plenty angry. But never _that _much.

It was all his fault. Fucking pirate.

But there had been sincerity there, too. He'd wanted something from her, something that she refused to acknowledge was there. She couldn't allow it, not again, not after everything. That way lead to madness, and Emma was no longer a young girl who could take such risks with her heart.

_Emma, I'm not the only one who's fall —_

He hadn't finished that sentence, but the words, his voice, still rang in her head. How that sentence ended was something Emma was too afraid to contemplate.

Not the only one who's … what? Fallen? Fall_ing_? Or maybe she'd misheard him altogether. All she knew was that her stomach was in knots at the idea of facing him again, terrified he'd want to finish that conversation, and terrified of what she might say if he pressed too hard. She still couldn't shake the fear that this was all just a game to him. Lead her to the edge and then push her off, pointing and laughing and stupid Emma, falling for the pirate's tricks.

Part of her really didn't want them to be tricks though. Every time her mind wandered these days, she found herself thinking about him, about his cocky smirk, and his laughter that came just so easily. The way his too-blue-to-be-real eyes lit up whenever he looked at her — or was she just imagining that? The way he talked to her, the way he _listened_. The way he could look at her, and just _know _what she was feeling — she'd always kept herself so guarded, no one had ever managed to see past her walls, except him.

She blew out a frustrated breath, her hands splayed on the top of her desk as she tried to steady her nerves. When was the last time anyone had made her feel this way? Not even Graham had …

No. She didn't want to think about Graham right now. Whatever she had had with Graham had been short, and sweet, and over too soon, and it most definitely hadn't been love. They'd _barely _known each other. Maybe it might've been, given more time, but in the end, he had left her, just like Neal had, just like everyone else in her life had.

Just like Killian would, once he finished what he'd come to Storybrooke to do.

Why did the idea of that make her heart wrench in her chest? She'd gotten through everyone else leaving her … why should Killian doing the very same thing be _any _different?

_Because you …_

"No," she said, shaking her head, not allowing that thought to finish. Her eyes landed on the top drawer of her desk then, and she sighed. "Make it right," she muttered to herself, unlocking the drawer and taking the hook from inside, placing it into her bag.

With one last deep breath, she headed back out into the night, pointing her feet in the direction of the inn.

She made her way to the bed and breakfast, finding Granny Lucas at the front desk. "Emma!" she said, surprised. "I suppose you're here after our newest tenant?" She raised her eyebrows, giving Emma a look. "He was in quite the snit when he got here."

She frowned, hating the nagging, guilty feeling she felt in her gut right now. "I need to talk to him, yes," she said. "What room?"

"The same one you had when you first showed up here," Granny said, nodding toward the stairs.

"Thanks," Emma said, turning and heading upstairs then. She took a deep breath when she reached the door, before raising her hand to knock. She blinked when the door opened before she even touched it.

"Ah, here she is," Killian said, his expression bored, his voice droll. "Come to further ruin my night."

"I'm not here to ruin your night," Emma said, reaching into her bag and holding up his hook. "Peace offering?"

He cast a glance to his hook, then to her, then back again, before he reached for it. She pulled it out of his reach. "May I come in?" she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well, well, I do like the way you apologize, love," he said, his smirk back in place.

Emma shook her head, biting back her own grin. "Get over yourself," she snapped. "You letting me in or not?"

"That's pretty rich coming from you," he said. "Talk a big game about letting you in, but when do _you _ever let anyone in?"

Okayyyy, so. Apparently he was still sort of pissed off.

"Damn it, Killian!" she snapped, frustrated. "Will you just _talk _to me?"

That got his attention. The strangest expression came over his face then, and Emma didn't know what to make of it … what had she done wrong _now_?

Then it hit her.

Killian. She had called him Killian.

The realization caused all the anger to leave her. Her expression changed then, to one that was imploring. "Please," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He nodded without a word, pushing the door open wider and beckoning her inside. Once she was inside, and the door was shut behind them, she turned to face him. She tried to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, the way the room seemed like it was too small for the both of them to be occupying at the same time, the way everything about this moment felt too oppressive, too tight. He was all-encompassing, everything in her was screaming out for him.

But she _couldn't_.

Instead, she handed him his hook, watching as he reattached it … it was all kind of fascinating, really, in a morbid sort of way.

"You shouldn't be here," she said after a long moment of silence, of the two of them just looking at each other, neither one wanting to be the first to speak.

"You think I don't know that, darling?" he said, and his voice was very soft as he leaned in then. He brushed a bit of her hair off her shoulder, then placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb lightly caressing her cheek. "I should be at home with you."

Emma felt her breath catch then, her heart leaping wildly at the heated look in his eyes. The air practically sparked between them right now, and his lips were so very close …

But the moment was all too short. "Alas, you saw fit to kick me out." He tapped the tip of her nose before straightening to his full height and giving her an almost malicious smile.

Emma blinked, snapping back to reality like a broken rubber band. "I'm not going to apologize for that, if that's what you want," she told him, her walls going back up almost immediately. She knew better than to let people in, damn it.

"Then why are you _here_, Emma?" he asked, the frustration in his voice evident. "Is it to bloody _torture _me, is that it? You can't sleep unless you've come and ruined any chances I might have of a peaceful night?"

She frowned. "What? I … "

"Oh, that's right, I forgot, you have to play the innocent here, don't you?" he snapped. "As if you haven't a sodding clue what you're putting me through."

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Emma said, even though she was afraid that she _did_ know, and she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it … or that she'd _ever _be ready to hear it.

"_Emma_," he said, and his voice was heavy with exasperation. "You're a smart lass, why play the idiot now?"

"Hook, I didn't come here for this," she said, trying to keep her voice firm.

"Are we back to Hook again?" he asked. "A minute ago I was Killian … the walls have snapped right back into place then, haven't they?" His eyes roamed her face, his expression earnest and searching. "Emma, Emma, please. Let me in," he breathed.

His hand closed around her wrist, and he pulled her closer, and Emma found that despite everything, she didn't have any desire to move away from him. Her eyes flicked up to his, and she couldn't look away, even as his other arm went around her waist, pulling her against him. Her eyes stayed locked with his until his lips were on hers, and only then did she let them fall closed.

She was surprised at his gentleness. The kiss wasn't eager or desperate or hungry, but soft, like a whisper, his breath mingling with hers. Her hands moved to his chest, fingers curling in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as her lips parted beneath his, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Killian gave a soft sigh of pleasure, and Emma moaned, shivering, as his tongue slid over hers. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers threading through her blonde tresses, as his other arm stayed at her back, keeping her against him, as though she might bolt at any second, as though there were anywhere else she would possibly want to be right now.

It was that realization, the realization that this was all _too_ perfect, _too _good … that made Emma pull away.

"Emma," he breathed raggedly, his hand still in her hair, his lips still inches from her own. "Emma, don't … "

She shook her head, pulling back, and he released her, his eyes pained as he looked at her. "I … I can't. I'm sorry, I … "

"Emma, look at me," he implored her, and she did. "I am not going to hurt you."

"I've heard that before," she muttered, her body trembling with all the things she wasn't allowing herself to acknowledge right now.

"I am not everyone else," he told her, and he sounded offended that she would even think so. "I don't know what's happened to you before, but Emma … "

"I want to believe you," she said. "But what if I'm wrong?" She shook her head.

His hand was on the side of her face again. "You've got to take a chance sometime, darling," he said softly.

"I'm not ready," she said, though her hand did move to wrap around his wrist as it rested on her cheek. "Killian, I … "

"I'm not going anywhere," he said earnestly.

She smiled sadly. "Yet," she finished for him.

"Emma," he said, "I don't know what's happened to you, love, but I'm not the one to blame."

She sighed then, taking another step back, releasing his wrist and moving out of his reach. "You need to be careful," she said, deciding to try a less terrifying conversation route. "Mr. Gold — Rumplestiltskin — he knows you're in Storybrooke."

He blinked, looking a little deflated at her sudden change of conversation. "That's what you've come for, then?" he asked, as if it was all making sense now. "Well, good. It's about bloody time we had this over with, me and him."

"No, Killian, he is _dangerous_. You need to be careful," she told him, her voice serious, her eyes locked onto his beseechingly.

"And why's that?" he asked her wryly.

She took a deep breath. "Because I _want_ to trust you. And I can't do that if you leave me too."


	8. Chapter Seven: The Chariot

**A/N:** So. We must continue onward. I know the last chapter was full of ALL GOOD THINGS, but … well, things aren't going to be bright and shiny and smooth-sailing right now, MUCH AS I WISH IT WERE POSSIBLE. We're up to The Chariot, which is all about conflict and struggle, and battles hard-fought. A big theme with the Chariot is internal struggles. Which we know Emma has lots of. It's about being pulled in two different directions, and trying to make both factions work cohesively. In this case, it's Emma's damn logic vs. her heart. I hope you like this chapter. We're only about three chapters away from Fortune, which is … well, it's where all those big things I've been promising are gonna start. ;)**  
**

**Chapter Seven**  
_**The Chariot**_  
_"I've been thinking of changing my mind, it never stays the same for long … "_

After the words left her, Emma knew she needed to get away. God, she was saying too much. She always, always said too much to him.

"I need to go," she said, her voice full of reluctance, regret. She didn't want to walk out of this room, but she knew she couldn't stay. If she did …

"No, you don't," Killian said, though he made no move to hold her or keep her there. Emma knew that he was making it very clear with his actions that the choice was hers.

She smiled wryly. "And what do you suppose is going to happen if I stay here?"

"I've no idea, love," he said with that cheeky smirk she was becoming so fond of, despite all her misgivings.

"That's exactly why I need to go," she said, shaking her head.

"You keep kissing me, Emma," he said, cocking his head as he looked at her. "And then you back off like it never happened. When do you suppose you might kiss me and actually mean it?"

Her brow furrowed. "You think I don't _mean _it?" she asked, her defenses bristling. "You think I just kiss anyone and everyone?"

"I don't deign to imply that I know anything about you at all," he said dryly.

She frowned. "Okay, now I know I need to go," she said. "Before we end up fighting again."

"Is that what we're doing?" he asked, the smirk now becoming infuriating to her. How did he manage to make her feel every emotion, all at once?

"Not yet, but … "

"Don't go," he said, his voice earnest. "Not right now."

"Hook … " She looked at him, then at the door, her expression clearly torn, her emotions in turmoil within her.

"Hook, again?" he said, frowning at her a bit. "Don't put that wall back up, love. Not now."

"I can't stay with you," she said quietly. "You know I can't."

"I know you _won't_," he corrected. "What are you so afraid of?"

_You, _she thought, but she jutted out her chin and looked up at him. "Nothing," she said.

"You're a poor liar, Emma Swan," he said, shaking his head. "If you weren't scared, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Maybe he was right. Maybe she should just stay. Maybe that would get her over this stupid little infatuation she had with him. She could get him out of her system, be done with it, and go back to living her life, the way it was before …

She shook her head, appalled at her own thoughts, and more appalled at the realization that it wouldn't change anything. Whatever she was feeling for him, confusion, loathing, compassion, annoyance, affection … _whatever _it was … it wasn't going anywhere, and spending the night with him was certainly not going to clear it up any for her.

"It doesn't matter what you think," she said then. "I'm not staying."

"And yet you're still here."

She huffed indignantly. "I'm just … I … you really shouldn't stay here either. Gold knows you're in town, and he's made threats. I don't want anyone getting hurt because of you … "

"But taking me back with you would only put your family at risk," he pointed out.

"I didn't say I was taking you back with me!" she said, throwing up her hands. "I have to figure out something to do with you." The look he gave her then _really _wasn't helping matters. "Stop that," she snapped at him.

"Stop what?" he asked, all innocence.

"You know what," she retorted, glaring.

"Why? Does it bother you?" He leaned in, practically leering at her now. She gave him a light shove on his chest, wanting to maintain some semblance of personal space (ha! As if that existed with him anywhere in her vicinity), but he grabbed her wrist before she could pull her hand back. "Why is it so hard for you to accept when someone is _interested _in you?"

"You're not interested in me," she said, her eyes focused on his hand, still holding her wrist lightly.

He gave her a look like she had two heads. "You don't actually believe that, do you?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable in her own skin under his scrutiny now. "Doesn't really matter," she mumbled. She pulled her hand away and turned toward the door.

"One day, love, you are going to believe me," he said. "One day, you might even trust me a bit."

"And why's that?" she asked, hand on the doorknob then. She looked back over her shoulder.

"Because I'm not giving up," he said. "I'm not going to be just one more person who leaves you, Emma."

She didn't even have anything more to say to that. Part of her wanted to weep, because she wanted it to be true, more than anything. Sometimes, she could close her eyes, and imagine what it might be like to be his. What it might feel like to hold him, to let herself be held. But the bigger part of her knew it was all just a lie. A pretty lie, but a lie, nonetheless.

He'd leave.

They all left.

And she just … couldn't risk it. Her heart was too damaged to take any more hurt. She shook her head and pulled open the door then, leaving before he had a chance to say anything else.

She managed to ignore the pointed look Granny was giving her as she walked out of the inn. She was sure the old woman had heard everything, and she didn't really want to contemplate that too much right now.

She made it halfway down the street, oblivious to the chill wind that was blowing now, when she realized that that pang she felt in her gut was disappointment.

He hadn't followed her.

"Idiot," she muttered to herself. "Did you really expect him to, after that?"

She didn't turn for home, instead taking the path that lead off into the woods. She needed a few minutes of reflection, a few minutes to try and contain her emotions, before going back to the apartment that was full of people who were too perceptive for their own good.

She also needed time to figure out _what_ she was going to do about Killian. Not in personal sense … she couldn't even bear thinking of that right now. In the sense that she had to keep him safe, as well as not putting anyone else in danger. That really ruled out letting him stay anywhere in town … but she couldn't very well send him away, either.

Nor did she want to.

She might not know what she felt for him, but she did know that the idea of him not being around was … an unhappy one.

She didn't know how long she walked, she was meandering through the wooded path, the light growing ever dimmer. She knew she should head back soon, it was growing quite cold, and it wouldn't be real smart for her to be out in the woods after dark. But something kept pushing her onward, a bit farther, just around that bend up there, with the copse of trees …

She could hear the sound of the creek that ran along the border of the town as she made her way through the trees. She blinked when she came through them to the other side, shaking her head a little in disbelief.

The cabin.

She remembered Mary-Margaret telling her about this place, back before the curse broke, back when David was still married to Kathryn. Mary-Margaret had told Emma about trying to send a pigeon back to her flock, and getting caught in a storm. She and David had waited it out here.

Brow furrowed, Emma pushed open the door, looking around as best she could in the dim light. It wasn't the cleanest of places, but that was to be expected. Who knew how long it had been since anyone had lived here. She was sure that it wouldn't take much to get it into some sort of respectable condition though. Respectable enough for a pirate, anyhow.

She harbored no illusions that Gold didn't know about this place. But if Killian stayed here, alone, at least everyone in town could honestly say they didn't know where he was. Only Emma needed to know, and then only she would have to deal with any consequences.

A small smile played at her lips. Yes, this could work. For now. Until … until Killian decided what he wanted to do, of course.

She nodded, taking another look around, deciding to come back at first light and get to cleaning the place. She could bring Killian out here in the evening, after Gold closed his shop and headed home, so she wouldn't need to worry about them being seen.

She turned, ready to leave, satisfied that she'd found a good solution. She let out a shriek when she saw a shadow in the doorway, hand immediately going to her holster.

"Don't shoot, love, it's only me."

Emma felt her entire body sag with relief (and … something else. Was it happiness that he'd followed her?). "Killian?" she said, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"Been trying to catch up with you," he said, pushing off the doorjamb and stepping inside the cabin. "I saw you head off toward the woods from my window, and, well, what can I say? Curiosity got the better of me." He flashed her a grin, which, even in the fading light, was brilliant. He cast a glance around then. "Is this the solution, then?"

"I was going to clean it before I brought you here," she said, a little sheepishly. "I know it's not the … finest of establishments."

"I've stayed in much worse places than this," he told her with a dry chuckle.

"I'll still clean it," she said. "I mean, there's no reason you should have to stay in such a … "

"You worry too much," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It'll do. And I'm capable of cleaning it myself, I did own a ship for years, you know."

She smiled in spite of herself, in spite of the turmoil this day had brought. She felt a little relieved, to be honest. This was a good solution, at least for now. "I won't tell anyone else that you're here. No one. It'll be safe, _everyone _will be safe, until you figure out what it is you've come here for."

Even in the dim, dusky light, the look he gave her then was enough to send shivers down her spine. She couldn't begin to fathom what it meant, though.

"Will you stay here tonight, then?" she asked, trying to focus on something other than the heaviness of the air between them.

"Doesn't make sense to go traipsing back through the woods and break my neck in the dark, now does it?" he said, giving her a pointed look.

"I know these woods," she said in response. "And it's not full dark yet. I'll be all right."

"You'd rather me worry about you all night, then?" he said, giving her a look that sort of reminded her of a wounded puppy.

Unfair.

"Stop that," she said, shaking her head. "I'm going. But I'll be back in the morning."

"I shall eagerly anticipate your return, milady," he said softly, his eyes lingering on her lips.

He was going to kiss her again, and she wasn't honestly sure she'd want him to stop if he did. And yet she couldn't seem to move. The last bit of the rose-colored light of dusk slanted through one of the dusty windowpanes, illuminating him with a soft glow that made her breath hitch.

He was achingly beautiful, and she was terrified of everything about him.

She placed her hand on his chest, not sure if she meant to pull him in or push him away. She could feel her head warring with her heart. Her eyes lingered on his lips longer than they should have, before she flicked her gaze up to meet his.

She _wanted _him, every part of her was crying out to be touched by him, and only him. And he was leaning in, his hand reaching to brush the hair off her shoulder, the way he'd always done, that too-familiar gesture that had annoyed her at first, but that she now accepted as just … Killian.

She swallowed thickly, every ounce of her willpower needed to finally push him back gently. "I'll see you tomorrow … Hook." She turned quickly, not wanting to see whatever emotion reflected in his eyes then, not wanting to know if he was angry or hurt or just plain sick of putting up with her.

The last thing she heard before she walked out the door was him whispering her name.


	9. Chapter Eight: Strength

**A/N: **There's nothing OVERLY spectacular about this chapter, but I'm pretty damn pleased with how it came out. Strength, which is where we are now, is all about compassion, understanding, and love winning out over hate. Basically, it's just GOOD things starting to unfold. It's not the most exciting chapter, but there's plenty of that coming up VERY soon. ;) Enjoy**, **and once again, thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following. I loooove knowing other people are enjoying this.

**Chapter Eight**  
_**Strength**_  
_"And I'm not sleeping now, the dark is too hard to beat …"_

For nearly a week now, Emma had been coming to the cabin as often as she could, helping to make it into a much more hospitable place for Killian. He insisted that it was fine, and that he could "bloody well" clean the place himself, but Emma had seen him try to wield the broom with his one hand and his hook … it hadn't been pretty.

"I'm sure there are a great many _other _things you're good at, one handed or no," she'd teased lightly, earning herself a wicked smirk from him.

"Oh, you've no idea, love," he'd said, running his tongue over his teeth in a gesture that bordered on obscene. Emma had to stop herself from staring.

"How nice for you," she deadpanned.

"Could be nice for _you_, too," he said with a wink.

That had flustered her, and she'd made an excuse to leave after that, muttering something about being back "tomorrow or whenever" and leaving before he had a chance to say anything else.

She didn't know why she was so _irritated _these days. They'd be having a perfectly normal conversation, and then he'd go and say something that just set her head to spinning.

She wanted to believe he meant the things he said, but she just … couldn't. She'd known men like Killian her whole life. Once he got what he wanted, he'd be done, he'd be gone, he'd be another page in Emma's Big Book of Regrets.

And she didn't want him to be in that book. She kept having these stupid little thoughts about what it'd be like if he stuck around. Idiotic daydreams about him being the one to prove her all wrong about everything. He'd asked her to trust him, up on top of that beanstalk, and god, she wanted to.

She wasn't in _love_ with him … but he'd gotten to her, in spite of everything, and she just … ached. Some nights she couldn't even sleep for want of him, her body trembling as she remembered every glance, every whisper, every touch. And the worst part of it was that she knew that all she had to do was say the word, and she could have it — _him_.

But she wouldn't. Because she knew that crossing that line … well, there'd be no coming back from that. He'd eventually leave, and she would _never _recover. But no matter what she might say or do to the contrary … his company had become something she didn't think she could get through a day without.

So here she was, on her way back to the cabin, despite her better judgement. There was a Nor'easter blowing in, all the weather reports were saying it was going to be a nasty storm, and the chill of the wind right now made her pull her coat around her tighter as she walked through the woods. She knew that today would probably be the last chance she'd get to come out to the cabin until after the weather broke, and she couldn't stand the thought of not seeing him …

What was _wrong _with her?

He looked surprised when she opened the cabin door and let herself inside. "You're here," he said, not moving from where he was stretched out on the worn old sofa, his eyes following her as she moved into the room, closer to the fire he had blazing in the hearth.

"Yeah, I am," she said, still shivering as she sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, unwinding her scarf from around her neck. "It's fucking cold out there."

He chuckled. "There's a storm coming," he said, glancing out the window, eyes seeming to assess the clouds. She supposed he probably had a lot of practice doing that, having been captain of a ship and all. "You shouldn't be out here, love."

She frowned. "Do you _want _me to go?" she asked, turning her head to look at him, only to find that he'd moved down to the floor beside her.

It was suddenly a lot warmer.

"Never," he said, and his eyes blazed hotter than the fire as he looked at her. "But we both know you won't stay, so I'm letting you off the … well, hook." He flashed a grin, but there was no humor behind it. He looked upset. "Go home, Emma. Stay warm and safe and with your family. Just go."

She frowned. "What the hell, Hook? " she snapped. "What's wrong with you today? For that matter, what's been wrong with you for the past _week_?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"Liar," she said, shaking her head at him. "Something's wrong, come on, talk to me. I thought that's what we did."

"Talk?" he asked her, brow furrowed.

"Well … yeah," she said, a little uncertainly. "We are friends, aren't we?"

"Friends," he said with a bark of harsh laughter.

"Is there something appalling about being friends with me?"

"Bloody _hell_, Emma," he said, running his hand through his hair, his voice a frustrated growl now.

"_What_?" she asked, looking at him, completely perplexed as to what had him in such a tizzy. It wasn't lost on her, the fact that he'd made no move to reach out to her, to touch her, since the night he'd first followed her out here, the night she'd pushed him away.

Was this it, then? Was this where he told her he'd had enough? Most people would have long since given up on her by now. Even she was frustrated with herself.

"Seriously, Hook, _what_?"

"_What_?" he repeated, giving her a bewildered, almost angry look. "Are you honestly asking me that?"

"Yes!" she snapped. "I am! Because I have _no idea _what it is you want, and I have no idea how much of it is part of some game you're playing and how much is … "

She was cut off by his lips on hers then, and there was none of the gentleness that she remembered from the other night in this kiss. "I am _not _your friend," he growled against her lips. His hand was in her hair, his fingers tightening slightly as he held her where she was, his tongue assailing her mouth, as though he meant to devour her.

She let out a soft cry of surprise before she found herself returning the kiss with equal fervor, her body shuddering with pleasure as her tongue slid against his then. He deepened the kiss, his teeth dragging over her bottom lip as his hand moved to slide the zipper on her coat down, shoving the unwieldy garment away from her once it was undone.

His hand brushed over the swell of her breast through the fabric of her sweater, his mouth trailing along her jawline now. She allowed him to gently push her back onto the rug, unable to hold back a soft moan as he sucked lightly at her pulse point. Her hand had somehow found its way into his hair, fingers threading through it as she let the sensations of his lips on her skin wash over her. The things his mouth were capable of were comparable to some sort of religious experience, she was sure of it.

"Emma," he groaned, his voice ragged and strained with desire, his teeth nipping lightly at her earlobe, sending shockwaves through her entire body. She gasped, his next words hot against her ear. "All I bloody think about is you. This is not a game to me," he breathed. "I can't sleep, I can't focus on _anything_ except for how much I want you. It kills me not to touch you. I can't _breathe_, Emma."

Emma's breath hitched. At no point in her life, had _anyone _ever spoken to her so fervently. She didn't know how to deal with the weight of his words … she wanted so badly to believe him, but she didn't know how to believe, even in the truth, any more.

"I … "

He pulled back then, looking at her face, his entire demeanor changed. "Don't," he told her, closing his eyes, defeated. "Spare me the platitudes, love." She looked at him, really looked, and saw the earnestness in those blue eyes of his.

She frowned, not sure where this had all started going wrong, _again_. "They're not platitudes," she said, moving to sit up, which was rather difficult, considering his body was still half-covering hers, and she could feel every inch of him pressed against her, making her yearn to go back to just moments ago, when things were simple … before he'd spoken and shattered her world with his words. There was no way things were going to be simple now, there was no going back. "I just don't know what you expect me to say."

"You still _doubt_ me," he said, and she winced at the hurt tone in his voice. "After all of this, after _everything_, you still don't believe a word I say, do you? You think I'm lying? You know that I'm not, _look _at me, Emma. You're driving me 'round the bend, and you think I'm making it up!"

"That's not true!" she said, pushing him off of her and finally sitting back up. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling completely exposed and vulnerable, even though _nothing _had happened.

"You're going to have to take a chance on something _someday_, love," he told her.

"And you think I should take this chance on you," she said, her mouth drawn in a thin line. "I can't _fix_ you, I can't help you breathe, I can _barely _hold myself together, what makes you think I'd be any use to you at all?"

Why was this so _complicated_? Why couldn't she just … let things happen? Why did she always have to overthink _everything_?

"Because you need me," he said, and she froze. He'd said something very similar, the first time they'd met.

"And what happens to me, after you finish what you came to Storybrooke for?"

"You think I'd just _leave_?" he asked, and his expression was disgusted. "Emma … "

"Why _wouldn't _you?"

"Try trusting me," he said, and he sounded weary. Her brow furrowed, she looked at him warily. "I know you want to."

"I barely know you," she said, shaking her head. "And contrary to … everything … my life is _not_ a fairy tale." She smiled a little sardonically then. "If it was, I highly doubt I'd be sitting here with _Captain Hook _as my companion."

"Oy!" he said, his hand going over his heart dramatically. "You're not exactly a picnic yourself, m'love."

She laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the whole damn situation, shaking her head. His words were still running through her mind, and she was trying desperately not to dwell on everything he'd said. She sighed heavily. "I guess it's just my luck."

"Most people _would _consider you quite lucky to be here with me, yes," he said, grinning cheekily, and Emma was glad to see he was no longer trying to shove her out the door. "Women have killed each other for the opportunity, you know."

She rolled her eyes, amused, even though she didn't really like thinking about him with other women. She wasn't an _idiot_, she was under no illusions that he was … well, she knew she was in no way the first woman he'd dallied with. Still didn't mean she had to _like _it.

Oh, hell.

She supposed she had _feelings_ for the stupid pirate, after all. She stood up then, needing to move, needing to do _something_.

She moved over toward the window, hugging her arms around herself. It was cold away from the fire … away from _him_.

"Shit!" she cursed, eyes widening. The storm that they had been looming had hit hard and fast … the world outside the cabin was awash in white, swirling flakes obscuring everything in sight. She couldn't even see the treeline at the edge of the property, less than five feet away.

Fuck.

"What? What's wrong?" He was on his feet, at her side, in record time. Then he burst out laughing. "Well, well, well," he said with that damned infuriating smirk back in place. "Looks like you won't be able to run away from me so easily this time, lass."


	10. Chapter Nine: The Hermit

**A/N: **LONGEST. CHAPTER. YET. And also full of so many feels I can't even ARTICULATE PROPERLY TO YOU. This chapter is The Hermit. I had the idea for this chapter BEFORE I decided to turn it into a multi-chapter fic. I know the whole ~trapped together during a storm~ thing is not anything original. It's not MEANT to be. Emma might be the least "fairytale"-ish of the characters, but that element still exists, and hell yeah, I'm going to use it! XD I've been so waiting to get here. This is … pretty close to the halfway point of the story, and there are still miles and miles to go, but … gah, I just hope you like this chapter, because I LOVED writing it. Thank you for reading!**  
**

**Chapter Nine**  
_**The Hermit**_  
_"Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you … "_

Emma elbowed him in the ribs as he laughed, causing him to grunt a bit and glare at her. "Uncalled for, milady," he told her, still laughing a little.

"I'm glad you're amused," she snapped, moving away from the window then. "Somehow this is your fault," she muttered.

"Oh, right, I summoned a sodding blizzard because I'm so keen to stay in Your Majesty's presence," he retorted icily. "If I had those kinds of powers, don't you think I'd put them to better use?"

She gritted her teeth, going over in her mind why punching him in his smug mouth was not a good idea. She just wanted to go _home_. She was sorry she'd even come out here. She hated feeling this way, she hated knowing what it heralded, and most of all, she hated knowing that there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it from happening.

Seriously? A fucking blizzard? It seemed like her life had been nothing but one stupid fairytale cliche after another since meeting him. She ignored the little voice in her head, saying that maybe there was a _reason _for that.

She didn't believe in … in soulmates or … destiny or any of that. Even after everything she'd seen … okay, sure. Maybe it happened to other people.

Not to her though. She was the outsider. She was content to be the outsider. She'd never wanted to be in the middle of any of this, and she _certainly_ didn't want the complications Killian _fucking _Jones had brought into her life.

She crossed the floor to retrieve her coat from where he'd tossed it when they'd …

_Nope. Not thinking about it._

But she was definitely thinking about it. Her skin felt like it was on too tight, her body was practically screaming at her for messing that whole thing up. It hadn't been her fault though! He was the one who'd gone and gotten all … intense about it.

Ugh.

"What are you doing?" he asked, grabbing the coat from her hands the second she picked it up. "Emma, you're mad if you think I'm going to let you go out there."

"_Let_ me?" she said, gaping at him. "I don't need you to _let _me do anything, Hook." She yanked the coat back from him, stalking over to the opposite side of the room, bound and determined to put as much distance between them as possible.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him clench his fist then, his jaw twitching with poorly concealed anger. "Emma!" he shouted, and she turned to face him, her expression expectant as she waited for whatever damn thing he felt he needed to shout about.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he muttered, shaking his head.

She made a face and turned away from him. "Forget it," she muttered, reaching into the pocket of her coat, fishing out her cell phone.

With a disgusted sigh, she tossed the phone — useless right now, _no fucking service, of course not_— and her coat back down on the floor and stalked back over to the window, staring out at the snow as though she could will it to stop if she thought about it hard enough.

"Like it or not, you're stuck with me til this storm passes," he said, and his tone was back to that cold, even clip that she recognized as his angry voice. "I'll try not to offend you overmuch, princess."

She glared at him. "Don't call me that."

"It's what you are, innit?" he asked, moving to stand next to her.

"No," she said, still staring outside. "It's not."

"Your mother is Snow White. Your father's Prince Charming," he pointed out. "What would you classify yourself as?"

"Alone," she said before she even had a chance to stop herself.

"Oh, Emma," he sighed, turning her to face him then. "Love, you know that's not true, don't you?" He brushed her hair away from her shoulder, and she swallowed thickly at the gesture that was becoming so familiar, so comforting.

She kept her arms crossed over her chest, refusing to look up at him. This was all too much. He was getting to her in a way that _no one_ ever had, and the worst part was that she kept letting it happen. There was a tiny part of Emma Swan that was still a hopeful, bright-eyed young girl. And that part wanted him to be … it. But she knew it was stupid to want that. Eventually, he'd be gone, just like the rest of them, so this … whatever she was doing … it had to stop. She couldn't get used to having him around. She couldn't get used to _him_.

But she already was. She already knew that when the day came that he wasn't part of her life any more … she would mourn that loss. She would miss him like a part of herself.

The wind howled outside the cabin, she could feel the draft snaking its way through the cracks around the windows. She shivered.

"Come away from the window, lo — Emma," he said, catching her wrist with his hook then and pulling her toward the fire.

She allowed herself to be pulled, feeling tired. She didn't want to fight with him. She didn't want to fight with herself. She wanted to go back to being the Emma who could just be frivolous with her feelings, never worrying about the consequences. But that Emma didn't exist any more.

And besides that, her feelings for Killian were anything _but_ frivolous. They were the realest feelings she'd felt since … well, since Henry had come into her life. Not that the way she felt for the two of them was in any way comparable. Henry was her _son_, and she loved him more than she loved anything in the world. But there was the other part of her heart, the one she'd closed off after Neal … but she could feel it slowly starting to creak open again.

She settled herself onto the floor in front of the fire, leaning her back against the sofa and sighing. Killian sat next to her, but he kept his distance. She noticed with some amusement that he still had his hook around her wrist. She wondered if he even knew it. She decided to let it go. It was innocent enough, after all.

They sat quietly for a long while, neither one daring to say anything, as the shadows grew longer. It would be dark soon. Mary-Margaret, David, and Henry, they were all going to be so worried, yet the storm still carried on.

"I'm going to be in so much trouble when I get home," she murmured after awhile, laughing a bit in spite of herself. That sounded like such a teenager thing to say, but it was true. Mary-Margaret and David were going to be _furious_.

He quirked a grin of his own at her. "You don't think they'll like hearing about you spending the night alone with a pirate?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She scrunched her nose at him. "Oh, I'm not even going to tell them _that_ part," she said, shaking her head and pressing a finger to her lips, lowering her voice. "Remember, I'm not supposed to know a thing about your whereabouts any more." She looked over at him then, the light dim enough now that she let her eyes linger on him. She still had a hard time accepting that he was a real person sometimes. Not just because of the fairytale thing. Just because of _him_.

"If you've something more to say, love, I suggest you say it," he said softly, his eyes catching hers. "Otherwise I'm like to take the way you keep staring as an invitation."

She felt her cheeks heat then, and tried to make herself look away from him, but couldn't. Desperate to maintain her composure, she cocked an eyebrow at him, managing a tiny smirk. "Invitation for _what_?" she asked, and _wow_, where had that breathy voice come from? She was trying to throw him off whatever game he was playing at, not freaking _seduce _him.

From the way his eyes burned in the firelight, she could tell her plan was most definitely not working. He was leaning in again, and Emma felt her heart thudding rapidly. Instead of kissing her, like she expected (_wanted_) him to, he brushed her hair off her shoulder again, letting his fingertips run lightly over the exposed part of her collarbone, his eyes never leaving hers. Goosebumps formed on her skin where touched, and she found herself leaning in closer.

"Do you've any idea just how lovely you are?" he said, so quietly she wasn't even sure he meant to say it out loud.

She blinked, her stomach fluttering. Everything about this moment was so foreign to her. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, no one had ever made her feel this way. "No?" she said by way of answer, earning herself a sardonic chuckle from her pirate.

"I could tell you," he said, leaning in and pressing his lips, almost chastely, against the spot on her neck where her pulse jumped. "But you wouldn't believe me if I did." He pulled her closer, raising his head to look at her again.

Her brow furrowed, confused by his actions now. "What … what are you doing?" she asked uncertainly, as his arm went around her, pulling her to his side and holding her against him, firmly, but gently.

"Holding you," he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Because I don't think anyone ever has. Not _really_."

Her first instinct was to stiffen in his arms, her walls immediately going back up, but he didn't let go. There was nothing forceful about what he was doing, but no one had ever just … taken her into their arms like this. Held her like she was precious. "Why?"

"Because you bloody well need it," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Tell me about the sheriff."

She turned her head, trying to look at him. "How do you know … ?"

"You've a chatty lad," he said. Oh, Henry was in _big _trouble when she got home. "Now. Tell me about him. You loved him, yes?"

She shook her head. "No," she finally answered, feeling herself relax a little in his arms then. "No, I didn't. We … barely knew each other. Graham — that was his name, Graham — he was … involved, I guess, with Regina."

"Cora's daughter?" Killian raised a brow at that.

She nodded. "Yes. Anyway … if Henry's story is to be believed, and I guess … there's no reason for it not to be … he was … he was the Huntsman. I guess that doesn't mean anything to you, not being from this world," she said quickly. "Basically, he was hired by Regina to kill Snow — my mother. I sort of owe him my life, I guess. I mean, obviously he didn't kill Snow. But when Regina found out … she was furious. She … she took his heart. Or … that's what he believed."

Emma swallowed, looking down, not sure how to go on. She felt Killian's arms tighten around her, almost imperceptibly and her eyes flicked up to his face. "I don't … I don't really know what happened to him, other than the fact that he died," she said. "All I know is Regina found out that … that we … "

"Were together?" Killian supplied with a quirk of his brow. There was a little edge in his voice that, if she hadn't known better, she might've said was … jealousy?

"Sure, let's call it that," Emma said, sighing. "We weren't. We hadn't been. We … we never were … but he wanted to end things with her. Regina and I, well, we fought."

"Continue," he said, brow raised, a slight smirk on his lips.

She elbowed him again. "Shut up or I won't," she told him, rolling her eyes. "Anyway … I don't know what happened. We were back at the station … Graham and I, and he was tending to my face." She ran a finger over the spot just above her eyebrow, where she still had the tiniest of scars.

"Because of the fight you had. With Regina," Killian finished, "don't let's leave that part out."

"Shut _up_, you idiot," she laughed, in spite of herself. He grinned at her, then pressed his lips against the scar above her brow, ever-so-lightly. She closed her eyes briefly, touched by the gesture more than she was willing to admit.

"Go on," he said, his expression back to being serious again.

"I don't know what happened," Emma said, keeping her voice as emotionless as she could. "One minute he was fine, the next … he was on the floor, gasping for breath, clutching his chest … and then he was just … he died in my arms, and there was _nothing_ I could do." She blinked, not wanting to cry now. "The coroner ruled it a heart attack. Henry insists it was Regina." She looked down. "I don't know if I'll ever know the truth."

"It was Regina," Killian said, his voice strained and quiet. "She had his heart, you said?"

Emma looked at him, confused. His arms had tightened around her again, and she wondered what was bringing out this vehemence in him. "That's what … that's what the book said happened," she said.

"She crushed it, Emma," he said through clenched teeth.

"What?" She was horrified at the thought. "How could you possibly know that?"

"It's what happened to Milah. It happened just like you described. He took her heart, in his hands, and he crushed it. There wasn't a bloody thing anyone could've done."

"Rumplestiltskin did that," Emma said, frowning. "And she died in your arms." She looked at him as she tried to assess what the odds were for two people from two entirely different worlds, who had each lost someone _the_ _exact same way_, to meet the way she and Killian had.

Pretty fucking slim. Even she had to admit that.

"This isn't an accident, Emma," he said quietly.

"I don't believe in fate," she said, shaking her head firmly.

"Well, apparently it believes in you, darling," he said.

"I'm sorry, you know," she said then, resting her head against his shoulder, almost unconsciously. "About your … about Milah." She glanced up at him without moving. "Do you … was she … "

"My true love?" he asked, raising a brow and looking down at her. "I used to think so."

"Used to?"

"I don't know what I believe any more, Emma," he said, his hand running up and down her arm gently. "I'm three-hundred-and-twenty-nine-years-old, give or take a decade I might've blacked out in there … and until very recently, I didn't think I'd ever feel anything but anger or hatred ever again."

"You're _three-hundred-and-twenty-nine_?" Emma asked, raising her head and looking at him, aghast. It was entirely much easier to focus on that part of what he said, and not the other. She didn't want to ask him what it was he was feeling now, she was afraid she already knew the answer. "Jesus."

"Neverland, darling," he told her with a chuckle. If he was disappointed that she didn't press him about the … _other_ thing he'd just said, he didn't show it, and for that, Emma was glad. She just wasn't ready to dip her toe in that pool yet, no matter what might've changed here tonight.

"Neverland," she said, nodding a bit, a small smile on her lips. "So … Will you age normally, now that you're here?"

"I should think so," he said, shrugging a bit. "Hadn't really thought about that too much. I suppose it stands to reason though."

"Weird," she said, shaking her head and settling back down. It was entirely too warm and comfortable in his arms right now.

"Too weird?" he asked, looking at her.

She shook her head. "I've changed my definition of 'too weird' since coming to Storybrooke," she told him.

"So then," he said after several long moments of comfortable silence.

"Mmm?" Emma asked, her eyes feeling a bit heavy.

"Your sheriff, he wasn't the one you were talking about up there on the beanstalk, was he?"

"No," she answered without hesitation, no longer feeling guarded about her past secrets. Not with him, anyway. Not right now. Maybe it was because of the storm, but in this moment, it really felt as though she and Killian were the only two people who existed. She knew the spell would break when the storm did, and she'd go back to her life, and … whatever this was would just be one of those memories that she cherished long after he was gone.

But for now … for now it felt right.

"So it's the lad's father, isn't it?" Killian said, and Emma just nodded. "Where is he now?"

She shook her head. "I don't have any idea, Killian," she sighed. "I was seventeen, and stupid, and just out of foster care, and … I met Neal. I stole a car that he had stolen first. It was a whole … thing." She shook her head, trying to ignore Killian's raised eyebrow.

"You keep insisting that you and I have nothing in common, love, but all your stories are proving that statement false," he told her.

She sighed. "Shhh," she told him. "You're making it worse."

He laughed at that, and Emma tried to pretend that she didn't love the sound of it. She hadn't had someone to talk to in such a long time, not like this, not about … _everything_. "Go on, continue your tale," he said after a moment.

She shrugged. "Not much left to tell. I thought I loved him. I thought he loved _me_. But he set me up, and I went to jail, and he was nowhere to be found when I got out." She made a face. "It's not a very good story."

"What a wanker," Killian said, disgusted, and Emma laughed a little.

"I've called him worse," she admitted.

"As well you should," he told her. "Anyone who would do that to someone they claimed to love deserves no less."

"You wouldn't do that, then?" she asked, looking at him. "I mean, you don't exactly have a stellar reputation in this realm … or yours, for that matter." She wrinkled her nose.

"And most of it is rightly deserved," he told her honestly. "But to bloody hang someone out to dry like that … no, Emma, I wouldn't do that. And I certainly would never do it to _you_, of all people. You deserve so much better than that."

"No, I don't," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not exactly a squeaky-clean little innocent here."

"Obviously," he said dryly, giving her a look. "A squeaky-clean innocent wouldn't have the first thing to do with me. So really, who needs them?"

"Who says I'm having the first thing to do with you, hmm?" she said with a grin.

"Well, you're here, aren't you? And you've not punched me or yelled at me or even called me a name in the past couple of hours … Emma Swan, have you gone soft on me?" He widened his eyes, gasping in mock horror at her.

"I can't exactly leave," she pointed out. "So I don't know if you can count this."

"Can't you let a man have his dreams?" he asked.

"Depends on the dream," she heard herself say. _Whoa, there, Emma._ Where had _that_ come from?

He cocked a brow at her. "I'd be more than happy to share that with you, love," he breathed, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

She turned in his arms then, her hand cupping his cheek, letting the stubble on his jawline tickle her fingertips as she pressed her lips against his gently. She didn't know how else to properly convey her gratitude for him, for this night, for listening to her, for still being _here_ … so this would have to do. She kissed him again, and again, and again, just sweet, light pecks against his lips, never deepening them, knowing, somehow, that he would just _understand_.

"You didn't say no," he breathed after a moment, and she felt the cold metal of his hook where it rested on her lower back, just under the hem of her sweater. It wasn't unpleasant, it was just something else of his that she was coming to be accustomed to now.

"And I'm _not_ saying no," she told him honestly, her eyes locked with his. She swallowed around the lump that was forming in her throat. "I'm just saying … not _now_."

His brow creased and he groaned a little. "Emma," he breathed.

"It's just … the storm, and … everything about tonight, it's already too … too much like a dream," she said, tripping over her words as she tried to explain, desperate to make him understand. "It wouldn't feel … _real_ right now," she said. "And I want it to feel real. I … _need_ it to." He nodded, slowly, and she could see in his eyes, that light, that flicker of familiarity that had drawn her to him from the very beginning. She closed her own eyes, sinking against him, her arms going around his waist. "I don't know why you even want to put up with me at all," she said quietly after a moment.

"Because you need me," he said simply, his hand on the back of her head, holding her against him as he shifted them, so they were lying on the rug in front of the fire now. "Much as I need you, love."

She smiled against his chest as she felt sleep creeping up on her. She felt … lighter, somehow. Lighter than she'd felt in awhile. And she knew they were on the verge of something … something potentially wonderful. And for the first time, she wasn't afraid of it at all.


	11. Chapter Ten: Fortune

**A/N: **Oh, Fortune. Thou art a heartless bitch ...

(I told you that Fortune was where the big stuff would start. Well. We're here.)

**Chapter Ten**  
_**Fortune**_  
_"I was disappearing in plain sight. Heaven help me, I need to make it right … "_

It took Emma a moment to remember where she was when she woke up the next morning … well, she assumed it was morning anyway. Propping herself up on her elbows, she glanced to the window, only to be met with the sight of more grey and white … the snow continued to fall outside.

With a quiet sigh, she made to sit up, only to feel arms tightening around her, not letting her move. "Don't even think about it, love." With a surprised squeak, she looked over at Killian. She'd thought he had still been sleeping. His eyes were still closed, in fact, but there was a smile playing on his lips as he pulled her back down with him. "It's bloody cold. Don't take the warmth away." He nuzzled against her neck, and against her better judgement, she laughed a bit, letting herself relax against him.

It was weird, but … it didn't _feel_ weird, being here, like this, with him. She'd never spent the night with a man when it didn't involve … well. And she _never _stuck around til morning. But here they were, and they'd shared something that went beyond intimate the night before, and yet … she didn't feel the need to run.

"Eventually, we have to move, you know," she told him. "I have to get home or they'll send out a search party." She made a face. They would too. Hell, they might already be forming one. And the last thing either Killian or she needed was for them to find them here, together, like this. Even though nothing had happened … well, she was pretty sure David's fist would still have a few things to say to Killian's jaw. Even Mary-Margaret might take a swing at him. Emma winced a bit at the thought.

"Don't leave," he said quietly, his fingertips brushing over her jaw as he turned her head so he could press his lips to hers. "Not yet."

"Killian," she sighed, not wanting to admit how much she loved kissing him. "What do you want me to do, just stay here with you indefinitely?"

"Why not?" he said with a small smirk.

"I have _responsibilities_," she said. "Besides, you know we'd kill each other."

"We wouldn't," he said, rolling them so he had her pinned beneath him, a smirk on his lips. She wriggled a little, and he groaned, and she gasped, when her movements pressed her hips flush against his. "I mean to have you, Emma Swan," he said in a ragged voice.

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the hungry look in his eyes. The way they were pressed against each other now left no room for doubt about what he meant. With a smirk of her own, she shifted her hips, knowing exactly what she was doing. She was smugly satisfied when he sucked in his breath. "I don't think I'll let you," she breathed, her own voice husky as she locked her eyes with his.

"Liar," he growled, dragging his teeth over her bottom lip, his fingertips slipping just inside the waistband of her jeans, causing her to gasp. He chuckled, the sound dark and rich. "You were saying?" he breathed, slanting his mouth down over hers.

She all but whimpered against his lips. _No one _should be allowed to kiss that well.

"No," she protested weakly against his lips, her heart not really in the word, as she pushed him back just a little. The last thing she wanted right now was to stop. But …

"Seriously, Killian, they are _going _to come looking for me. David will go out and buy a fucking snowmobile to do it, if he has to." She laughed, shaking her head, though there was a lot of truth in that statement. "Do you want them to catch us with your hand down the front of my jeans?"

"Point taken," he said, sighing heavily in frustration. "You're bloody well killing me, though."

She bit her lip and smirked at him, propping herself up on her elbows and leaning in, beckoning him to come closer as well. "I think you like it," she murmured against his lips before she kissed him again.

He groaned pleasurably then, his hand finding its way to her hair, tugging lightly on it as he returned her kiss with equal fervor. "I _will _have you."

"If you're very _very_ good, you just might," she breathed. She nipped his lips playfully then, shaking her head, and pushing herself away from him, even though she _really_ didn't want to. But she needed to get back … before they _did _come looking. "I've really gotta go now, though," she said, standing up.

He stood up with her, pulling her into his arms. "Only way I'm letting you go is if you promise to come back. And stay with me." The light in his eyes let her know exactly what he was asking, and Emma knew it was time for the all or nothing.

She kissed him. "I'll be back," she told him, her eyes on his. "I'll be back as soon as I'm able."

"And … "

"And I'll stay," she breathed. "With you. I'll stay with you." She felt her lips twitching upwards into a smile, and soon she was laughing.

The smile he gave her was enough to set her heart to fluttering, but in a good way. She felt good about this, about him, about all of it, and she never ever thought she'd be able to feel that, with anyone. He kissed her deeply, his hand holding onto the lapel of her coat.

"Come back quickly," he said. "I can't be long without you."

"Patience is a virtue, Captain," she said with a smirk, a playful glint in her eyes as she pulled away from him then, but not before stealing another kiss from his lips.

"I'm not particularly virtuous, if you hadn't noticed," he said with a wink. "Which is something I plan to make you glad of later."

She shook her head, laughing a little, her heart feeling light as she pushed away from him, moving toward the door now. "I'll look forward to that," she told him, turning the knob and stepping out into the wintry expanse of woods that awaited her now. It would be a cold, long walk back, but she felt so warm right now that it barely registered to her at all.

Her almost giddy feeling only lasted her as long as it took her to get back home, however. As soon as she walked in the door, she was immediately met with Mary-Margaret's frantic voice, and was pulled into her arms. "Emma Swan, where in the _hell _have you been?" Only Mary-Margaret could yell at you and hug you, all at the same time.

Emma's eyes widened as she assessed the scene in front of her. There were about twenty people crammed into the small apartment, and Emma only needed one guess to figure out what was going on.

"Seriously?" she said, looking at Mary-Margaret warily. "You were _actually_ organizing a search party?"

"Oh, no, don't give me that!" Mary-Margaret said. "Do you know how _worried _we've been? Why didn't you call?"

"My cell phone didn't have any service," she said. "I knew you were going to worry, but there wasn't anything I could've done. I was safe and warm and … everything was fine. And I'm home now, aren't I?"

"Where _were _you?" Mary-Margaret asked again.

Emma cast a glance around the room, at all the people gathered there, who were watching them with great interest. Mr. Gold was among them, a fact that was not lost on her, and did not sit well in her gut. She hadn't been cold at all on her walk home, but she felt positively _icy _right now.

Emma raised an eyebrow and looked back at Mary-Margaret. "Somewhere safe," she said, but from the way Mary-Margaret's jaw twitched, she knew she didn't buy it. "Look, can we send everyone home? I'd like a warm shower and a change of clothes and my own bed for awhile."

It took awhile, and everyone seemed to want to talk to Emma and make sure she was really okay after what apparently should've been a harrowing ordeal, but finally, the apartment cleared out. Mr. Gold was the last to leave, and Emma was sure he was going to say something, but he just patted her on the shoulder. "So glad you're home safe, dearie," he said quietly as he walked by her and out of the apartment.

Yeah, she didn't like that at all.

Emma frowned, hugging her arms across her chest as she watched him leave, really hating the sense of foreboding that he seemed to carry around with him … or maybe she was just paranoid. It wasn't as though she wasn't keeping a big secret, after all.

"You were with _him_, weren't you?" David asked, moving into the kitchen after everyone else was gone.

"Who, Gold?" Emma asked, keeping her face expressionless.

"Don't do that, Emma," Mary-Margaret said, shaking her head. "You know damn well who we're talking about."

"It doesn't matter," Emma said, casting a glance to Henry, who was pretty much as chilled out as he always was, thank God. "All that matters is I was safe, I _am_ safe, and I'm home now. It's better off for everyone if that's all you know, okay? Can you just trust me? Look, I'm sorry I made you guys worry, _really _I am. If there was any way I could've let you know that I was okay, believe me, I would've done it."

"I don't like that you're protecting him, Emma," David said earnestly. "I just don't know what makes you think he's trustworthy. He's a pirate, and yet, you're putting everything on the line to protect him."

"I can't explain it," Emma said, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her family now. Only Henry didn't seem at all fazed by this turn of events, but then, he'd liked Killian all along, hadn't he? "I just know that I … I trust him. I don't have a logical explanation, so if that's what you're looking for, then I'm sorry, I can't give you one. But I take care of the people that are important to me. And that includes him now, whether you like it or not. But I'm not going to risk you guys getting caught in the crossfire of the grudge between he and Gold."

"Fine," David said, holding up his hands. "I can accept that, but you need to answer one question for me."

Emma didn't like where this was going. "No," she said, shaking her head.

"Are you in love with him, Emma?"

Even Henry seemed interested in the answer to this one.

Emma shook her head. "I'm not answering that," she said.

"You just did," Henry pointed out.

"Don't help," she told him, shaking her head, to which he just smiled at her. She laughed a little then.

"You looked pretty happy when you first walked in the door," Mary-Margaret said.

"Is that not allowed now?" she asked.

"Happier than I've ever seen you," Mary-Margaret finished softly, and Emma scowled.

"Whatever I'm feeling is something _I _need to work out, on my own!" she said. "I don't need you three jumping all over me about it, okay?"

"But you're happy," David said.

"Oh my God," Emma sighed. She really did feel like a teenager right now. "Maybe I am … no, not maybe. I _am_ happy, okay? Are _you _happy now?"

"But … he's a pirate," David said, and he sounded pretty woebegone about it.

"He's a _man_," Emma said dryly. "He just … happens to like shiny stuff."

Mary-Margaret burst out laughing at that, and pretty soon, Emma had joined in. She wasn't even sure what was so funny, but David and Henry were laughing then too, and she remembered that she had someone waiting for her … and in that moment, everything just seemed right in her world.

And when was the last time that had ever happened to her?

Probably should've been her first clue.

After talking for awhile longer with her family, Emma excused herself to finally go take that much-needed shower. She spent a little bit longer than usual in front of her closet then, and she didn't even try to pretend she didn't know why.

In the end, she went with jeans and pale-blue sweater made out of some sort of soft material that had reminded her a bit of a cloud when she'd bought it. She left her hair down around her shoulders, curling it just a little after she'd dried it.

Mary-Margaret was waiting in her room after she came out of the bathroom. "Leaving again?" she asked, cocking a brow at Emma's outfit.

"I need to go by the station for a little bit, make sure there's no damage control that needs to be done," Emma began.

"That's not an outfit for damage control," Mary-Margaret said blandly.

"And then … yes, I've got somewhere to be," Emma said, just as blandly.

"But after last night … "

Emma shook her head. "Nothing happened last night," she said. "We talked, that's _all_."

"You … talked," Mary-Margaret said slowly. "I really didn't peg him as the talking type. I mean, not about anything _serious_. I know he loves the sound of his own voice."

Emma smiled softly. "You'd be surprised," she said quietly. "Good listener, too." She gave Mary-Margaret a hug then. "Don't worry about me tonight, okay?"

"Just be careful, Emma," Mary-Margaret said.

"Always," she said with a smile, grabbing her white, fleece-lined parka from the back of the chair in her room before heading downstairs. "You going to hate me forever if I leave again, kid?" she asked Henry, leaning against the countertop next to the barstool he was currently sitting on.

"Nope," Henry said with a grin. He leaned in then. "Remember when I said before, that you weren't ready?"

Emma nodded, remembering the conversation from not too long ago that they'd had, when he had told her that he thought Killian liked her. "I remember," she said.

"I think you're ready now."

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. "Stop being so smart. I'll see you in the morning."

David really didn't look like he wanted to let her out of the house, but he also knew there wasn't anything he could do about it. He started to say something, then sighed heavily. She shook her head. "I'll see you tomorrow, David," she told him, kissing his cheek. "Stop worrying."

She pulled her coat on as she stepped out into the hallway, making her way down the stairs and out of the front of the building. The plows had been through, so the streets were fairly clear of snow now, which made getting around a little bit easier. Though for all the good it did, she wasn't sure, as it had started snowing again. She started out in the direction of the sheriff's station, having every intention of at least attempting to get some work done, before she headed back to the cabin.

But when she passed the turn-off for the path into the woods, something hit her as being very, _very_ wrong.

"In a hurry, Miss Swan?" said a voice from behind her, pretty much the last voice she wanted to hear right now. "I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for down that way, not anymore."

Emma turned to face him, an icy pit lodged in her stomach. "How did you know?" she asked.

"You know there are no secrets from me in this town, dearie," Gold said, leaning heavily on his cane.

"What did you _do_?"

"What needed to be done," he told her, and she didn't like that glint in his eyes. "Neutralized a threat. Never even saw me coming."

"_Why_?" she asked, her heart lurching.

"Dearie, believe me, it's for the best. Though I suppose if you hurry, you might be able to save him yet. If, of course, you think it's worth it." He gave her a smile. "I like to think you're smarter than that."

Emma didn't care to hear anything else he had to say. She had no idea what he'd done to Killian, but this was the man who'd cut off his hand before, the man who'd crushed a heart … there was no telling what he was capable of, and she wasn't going to sit there and play mindgames with him. Not right now. Not when Killian …

She took off running into the woods, not caring about the branches that lashed at her face, or the root that she tripped over. She twisted her ankle, but she kept running. Oh, God, what had he _done_?

"Killian!" she screamed as she drew nearer to the cabin, bursting through the treeline. She looked around frantically. "_Killian_!" Nothing seemed amiss here, nothing at all. Nothing was disturbed, the cabin was the same as it had been when she'd left this morning …

What the fuck was going _on_? "Killian!" she called again, her heart thudding. Something wasn't right … something was very very _very _wrong. She could feel the crackling in the air.

_Magic_.

She heard a strange, but somehow familiar _pop _come from behind her, then a whirring met her ears. She turned, but couldn't see the source of the noise anywhere. "Killian!" she shouted again. Where was he? Oh, God, she just needed to know if he was okay …

Suddenly, she felt something tugging her from behind, and she tried to whirl around, to no avail. The pull on her body was so strong that she lost her footing and began to fall forward.

But no icy ground rushed up to meet her. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard someone calling her name.

But she just kept falling.

It finally dawned on her, where she'd heard that sound before, the _pop_ and the _whir_…

It was a portal.

She was in a portal.

And she was falling.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Justice

**A/N: **I know, I know. Everyone's worried about Emma right now. But there's a part of the story that Emma _can't _tell, and it's a part that NEEDS to be told before we continue. So I give you the first of a few POV switches in this fic (and I really hope I did our pirate justice).

This chapter is Justice. Justice places a huge emphasis on choices, wrong and right, good and bad, and the balance. There was no other way for this chapter to go. This chapter COULDN'T belong to anyone other than the man who's been seeking revenge. This is a grim, dark chapter. Things are bleak as hell. But we've still got miles to go …

Also, there is a nod to my _favorite_ theory pertaining to Hook in this chapter, so hopefully you guys catch it! I have to go with it. I believe it too much not to. ;)

**Chapter Eleven**  
_**Justice**_  
_"This is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten … "_

It was a distraction. He told himself, over and over again, when he'd first gotten to this strange realm, and every day since coming here, that he needed to focus.

He'd waited so many years to get here.

And yet it had all fallen apart the very first time he'd looked into her sad grey eyes. He was used to getting what he wanted. But she made him work for everything, and she never gave an inch. She was exasperating, she was irritating, she was bloody _obnoxious_…

She was making him feel … _better_.

300 years. He'd been waiting for literal centuries to be right where he was now, and at night, when he was alone, he tried to remind himself of that fact. That blasted Crocodile of his had taken his hand, had taken Milah …

But then he'd close his eyes. And it wasn't be Milah's bright, laughing blue eyes that waited for him in dreams, not any more.

Had two women ever been more different?

Milah had always been laughing, always ready with a quip or a teasing remark, freely affectionate and openly loving. Her sky blue eyes always danced, as if she knew some delicious secret that she wasn't going to share with you.

Emma's eyes were lonely and sad, grey and green, the sea after a storm. Her smiles were rare — guarded, careful things, as though she thought if she smiled too brightly, she'd be giving too much of herself away. But somehow that made them special. If she smiled at you, it was because you'd bloody well earned it. You'd put in a crack in that wall of hers, even if only for a second. She didn't open up to just anyone, and she didn't give affection easily. He knew that even just reaching out to _touch _him required her to take a huge risk with her heart.

It was funny, how she could make him feel like he'd discovered a cache of jewels just by gracing him with the barest of grins. Never in his life, _never_, had a woman made him feel so completely out of his element. Just being in her vicinity made him feel anxious. Charm didn't work on that one. Oh, sometimes he'd catch the corners of her lips twitching upward at something he said, but Emma … his Emma craved honesty, more than anything. And so he was honest with her. For the first time, possibly ever, every word he said to her was the truth, whether she believed it or not.

He had loved Milah. He would always love Milah, for a time, he had believed her to be his true love. He'd thought it impossible to ever feel again what he'd felt for her, the woman who had given up everything to follow him.

He knew that Emma would never do that. She'd die before she'd leave her boy, he'd seen firsthand how she'd fought tooth and nail to get back to Henry. If Killian left Storybrooke, she wouldn't follow him. It would break her heart, but she wouldn't go.

No. He couldn't compare the two women, not like that. There was nothing to compare. They were each their own person, and they were part of two different lifetimes, or so it seemed. There was no merging. Milah was the past, and Emma … well …

She wouldn't be the first woman he'd been with since Milah's death — not by a long shot. But Emma was no mere dalliance. She wasn't some wench there to make him forget for an hour or two.

The fanciful part of his brain told him she might just be his second chance.

But he needed to put the past to rest, finally. He knew better than to think the things he felt for her were fleeting, or that they'd disappear if he ignored them. But he couldn't give her what _she _needed, not until he got what he'd come here for originally.

He'd bloody well have his revenge on the blasted Crocodile — the demon didn't deserve to go unpunished, and he hadn't waited this long for nothing.

All these thoughts were running through his head as he waited for Emma's return. He needed to tell her, he needed to be honest with her. He only hoped he could remember the resolve he was feeling now when she was with him, when the scent of lavender in her hair wasn't overwhelming his senses and making him weak in the knees.

She deserved _better_.

And then he heard her.

At first, he thought the wind had picked up again, but when he raised his head to glance out the window, he saw her burst through the treeline, her expression frantic. He frowned … she was bleeding, there was a scrape on her cheek, and she was limping, as though she'd hurt herself.

"What in hell … " he muttered, brow knitting as he stood then, moving toward the door.

And then he heard it.

"_Killian_!"

She was _screaming_, and the sound seized at his heart. What on earth was wrong with her? He'd never heard her so emotional. As he drew closer to the door, the window, he could see the fear all over her face.

Fear.

She cried out his name again, and he heard her voice break.

Was she on the verge of tears?

She was afraid. Afraid for _him_.

"Emma," he breathed, reaching for the door, wanting her to see him, wanting her to know it was okay, that whatever she was afraid of, it wasn't necessary. He all but yanked the door open, eyes widening in horror when he saw the dark vortex that surrounded her.

"No!" he cried out. "_Emma_!" He started to run for her, hoping to reach her, to pull her out, something, Gods be damned, _anything_ but what was happening. "_Emma_!"

Suddenly something stopped him cold in his tracks, he couldn't move, he could barely breathe. "What foul magic is this?" he choked out, immobilized and unable to look around for his assailant.

Though he had a pretty good guess.

Rumplestiltskin came into view then — or, rather, Mr. Gold, as they called him here. He still used his cane — funny, you'd think the creature would magic himself a leg that actually worked after all this time — and he looked not at all like the demon Killian remembered so vividly.

"What have you done with her?" he wheezed, the hands of whatever dark magic Gold was using tightening around his throat. "She's _innocent_, you bloody bastard, she's _nothing _to do with this!"

"Oh, that's where you're quite wrong, dearie," Gold said menacingly. "She's been protecting you for weeks now. Don't think I don't know everything that goes on in this town. Don't think I don't know _why _you're here."

"This fight is between you and me!" Killian gasped, the invisible hands tightened around his throat more. "Why bring her into it?"

"She brought herself into it when she allied herself with you," Gold snapped, his mouth a thin line. "Does she even know the truth about Milah? Did you give her the sob story about how I killed your lady love?" He giggled maniacally. "Does she know you stole her from me _first_?"

"You know she came with me willingly." Killian managed a cocksure smirk, wanting to anger Gold enough into doing something stupid. He needed to distract him, he needed just a moment …

Gold smacked him, _hard_, across the face, hard enough that Killian spat blood and a bit of tooth out onto the ground at the demon's feet. Killian's eyes were dangerous now, dark and furious, his expression full of contempt.

"I will kill you," he said, his voice low and feral. "Stop using your magic tricks and let's have a go of it, you bastard."

Gold smiled then, and Killian didn't like what it heralded. It was too bright, too eager, too … everything.

"Well, dearie, that's exactly what I'm here for!" Gold said cheerfully, giving an exaggerated bow. "To give you the chance to do what it is you've just been dying to do … get your revenge."

Killian didn't say anything, just narrowed his eyes. He felt the tendrils of magic receding from him, his limbs becoming mobile again. He started to lunge for Gold then, only to be stopped once more.

"Ah, ah, ah … did I forget to mention the catch?"

Killian gritted his teeth. At this point, he could see no downside to snapping the bastard's neck.

"I offer you this one chance, no retaliation, to do what you will. Whatever will make you feel better," Gold said. "However … " He turned his attention to the still-swirling portal that Emma had fallen through only moments ago. Killian felt his blood turn to ice as he watched it shrink before his eyes.

"If you do, Emma Swan will never be able to return to Storybrooke." Gold giggled gleefully again.

"Where did you send her?" Killian asked through gritted teeth.

"Someplace you know quite well," Gold said. "Someplace you know there's only one way out of."

"The blasted pixies," Killian said, feeling his heart sink more with every second.

"And you know how fickle they are." Gold tsked sadly. "How they're only willing to help _certain people_." He gave Killian a pointed look, which the pirate chose to ignore.

"They won't help her." It wasn't a question, it was a fact.

"They'll help you though, won't they, _Killian_?" Gold said, putting weight on the name, as if he knew a secret.

"Aye," he whispered, feeling drained, feeling weary, feeling tired. With every second that passed, the portal grew smaller.

The choice Gold was offering him was no choice at all. If he followed Emma … he wouldn't be able to return. There was a finite amount of magic the pixies were capable of, and that was only if they were willing to help him in the first place.

He could get Emma home.

But he'd lose his chance at revenge against Gold. The only chance he'd ever have.

And he'd lose Emma.

But if he stayed, if he took his revenge, he'd already lost her anyway.

He'd waited three-hundred sodding years for this moment …

"You hesitate … " Gold said, smirking cruelly. "Emma would be so disappointed. After the way she came running after you … all it took was telling her you were hurt … "

That's why she'd been so frantic. That's why she'd been running, almost crying, screaming out his name.

"What'll it be, then?" Gold asked then. "Revenge … or the girl? Tick tock, dearie, time's running out." And he shrunk the portal again.

All he'd ever wanted was to avenge Milah's death, and the loss of his hand. But it wouldn't bring back his hand, and it certainly wouldn't bring back Milah.

Killian had a sudden flash then. Emma, falling asleep with her head resting against his chest last night, curled up there like she _belonged_ there. And then her smile as she'd left that morning. Bright, brighter than the bloody sun, the brightest smile he'd ever seen from her — and it was for _him_. The scent of lavender permeated his senses then, and he remembered the sounds she made when he kissed her. Hadn't he only last night promised her he'd never hang her out to dry like the wanker before had done?

He'd done a lot of bloody rotten things in his life, and he probably deserved everything Gold dished out to him, and then some.

But if he only did one thing right … Gods, let it be this.

At least maybe … just maybe … it might get his girl to trust someone again.

Gods, this was going to hurt like hell.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he growled, shoving Gold out of the way roughly and diving into what remained of the portal.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Hanged Man

**A/N: **To make up for my lack of writing ANYTHING yesterday, I've written you guys my _favorite _chapter to date. I have got so many feelings about this and I really really hope it shows. If you missed my favorite headcanon theory about Hook in the last chapter, don't worry, you'll get it now. ;)

This is the Hanged Man, which is all about surrender and letting yourself go so you can finally move onto the next part of your life. I'm so excited for the last half of this fic and I hope you guys like it as much as I love writing it. Enjoy, and thank you AGAIN, for reading, reviewing and just ... being so awesome in general about this fic. It really means a lot.

**Chapter Twelve**  
_**The Hanged Man**_  
_"I don't have a choice, but I still choose you … "_

Emma hit the ground with a _thud_, landing face-first. She crashed down hard enough that it knocked the wind from her lungs, and all she could do was lie there for a moment, struggling to breathe. She was almost afraid to open her eyes, afraid to see what sort of realm she'd been sent to.

She still had no idea what had happened. Well, no, scratch that. She knew it had something to do with Gold. But she had no idea _why_, or if it meant that Killian was here as well … or was he still at the cabin, lying wounded and hurt, as Gold had implied? Had it all been some sort of trick? Why would he _do _that?

She couldn't possibly spend too much time contemplating that, she'd drive herself insane. Whatever had happened to him … well, it was beyond her to help him now.

God, she hoped he was okay.

Sighing, she raised herself up with her hands, wincing a bit as the movement jarred the ankle she'd twisted running through the woods earlier. She was pretty sure it was sprained, but there wasn't anything she could do about it til she figured out where she was.

Her brow furrowed as she sat up, ready to take in her surroundings, and try to piece together any information that could tell her where she'd ended up … and how to get back home.

Her eyes widened when she got her first glimpse of … wherever she was. The ground below her, though hard to crash land on, was covered in soft, almost velvety-feeling grass, so green it almost didn't seem real. Everything here seemed to shimmer and glow, very faintly, just enough to make the world look as though it were permanently candlelit.

Gingerly, she got to her feet, hopping a bit to lean against a nearby tree — with a trunk in a grey-ish lavender hue, and huge fan-shaped pink leaves. There seemed to be a million points of light dotting the air, everywhere she looked, and upon closer inspection, Emma realized they were stars.

Stars, _everywhere_. High in the sky, which was a gorgeous deep, rich indigo, there were millions upon millions of the tiny sparkling lights, and they didn't stop at the horizon. All Emma had to do was reach out, and she could pluck one right from the air. They stuck to her sweater, and in her hair, and she could hear a very faint sound in the air, reminiscent of tiny silver bells, which she assumed belonged to them.

Limping, she moved away from the tree, the velvet grass making a soft _shhhh _sound as she moved through it. After only a few hundred feet, she reached the end of the land on this side, meeting the sea. It lapped against the shoreline, which was all black and silver sand, and the water was a swirl of purples and blues and silvers, sparking in the light of the stars, looking for all the world like liquid gemstones.

Where was she? She'd never seen a more beautiful, strange place. Even in her wildest imaginings, she never could have come up with something like this. Something tugged at the farthest reaches of her mind, and she could hear _Sea of Stars _whisper in her head, like a memory from a dream.

Maybe she'd read about this place in one of Henry's books.

The thought was a knife in her belly. _Henry_. She couldn't be here. She needed to be _there_, with him. She had to find her way home. Everyone she cared about, everyone she loved … they were all in Storybrooke. And they needed her.

She needed _them_.

But there was no portal to go back through, and even if there was, she had no magic to open it. She had no idea where she was, and aside from the fact that it was beautiful, no clues to help her figure it out.

She turned away from the water then, making her way slowly in the other direction. Maybe there was a village, or … something. Anything. Surely there were _people _in this realm.

She just didn't understand why Gold would open a portal to this place, of all places. It seemed so … serene, so tranquil and calm. If he meant her harm, wouldn't he send her somewhere more fraught with peril? Or was that the trick? Lull her into a false sense of security and then …

Maybe this portal hadn't been meant for her at all. The thought gave her pause, and she stopped walking. Was she just collateral damage in the feud between Gold and Killian?

God, she still didn't know if Killian was all right. And if he was hurt … there was no one in Storybrooke who knew where he was.

He could _die _while she was stuck here. Her heart seized a bit at the thought. He would die alone, if that were the case. Alone, and without ever knowing …

Well, she didn't know what it was she felt for him. But she knew it was something more than just a sense of duty to protect him that drew her to him. It was more than even friendship. The bond they had … it was unmistakable. And it just kept growing, no matter what she did, or how she tried to fight it, it was there, and he was there … and …

She needed to get back. As much as her mind warned her to be cautious, to not take foolish risks with her heart — _he's a pirate! _she reminded herself — her heart believed that he just might be everything she'd been looking for. Everything she'd been afraid to admit she wanted.

She took a shaky breath and started walking again. She had no particular destination in mind — _she had no idea where she was_— but surely she'd eventually come upon someone or something that might be of use for her. Her ankle pained her with every step, but she had to keep going. Sitting still wasn't going to get her anywhere. The strange grass whispered beneath her feet as she walked, but the farther she walked, the more she became convinced that there was nothing around.

After walking for what must've been hours (she wouldn't know for sure though, her watch was frozen at the time it had been when she'd fallen through the portal), she came to more water.

"Christ, it's an island," she breathed at the realization. She froze, unable to continue walking on her ankle as it was, and suddenly completely without hope. How could she find her way home if she didn't even know where she _was_? She was utterly alone.

She felt like she could cry, but tears didn't come. Her eyes felt dry, and it felt wrong somehow. She should be weeping, sobbing uncontrollably about how, once again, everything in her life had gone wrong. But still she didn't cry. She just felt numb. This was why she'd shut herself off from other people to begin with. Because this … this feeling of desolation, and solitude … she'd gotten used to it, before Henry had come into her life.

And now, it seemed, she would have to relearn how to be alone.

And it hurt.

Her ankle was throbbing now, so she reached down, removing her boots. She moved closer to the water's edge, sitting down in the crystalline black and silver sand, letting the swirling water lap over her feet. It was warm, and it seemed to glitter as it touched her skin. The pain in her ankle began to subside.

Emma frowned, slightly unnerved by the mystical healing properties of this water. Her eyelids began to feel heavy, and she realized how tired she was. She lay back in the sand, letting her eyes fall closed. She should've been more vigilant, and in the back of her mind, she knew that, but was beyond exhaustion at this point. She told herself she'd only sleep for a little while, and when she woke, she'd come up with a plan …

The sound of laughter roused her from her slumber some time later. It was familiar laughter, though there was something just off enough about it that she couldn't place where she'd heard it before. She sat up and turned her head, catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eyes. Not wasting time putting her boots back on, she jumped to her feet. "Wait!" she called out to whoever it was.

The owner of the laughter stopped, and Emma frowned. It didn't seem to be a real person at all … more like a shadow of someone long since gone. But he laughed again, and it made her heart flip a bit in her chest.

That laugh …

"I know you," she breathed. She cocked her head to the side, looking at the apparition. He wasn't looking directly at her, but the profile … younger, yes, and clean-shaven, but … "Don't I?"

The figure shrugged. "Could be, lass," a voice that sounded faraway said. "I know a great many people."

"Look at me," she said then, taking a step closer.

The figure backed up. "Oy, easy there," he said, and she could hear the mirth in his voice. It sounded so young but … He did turn then, and raised his head, the hint of a smirk on his lips. But it was when he flicked his gaze to hers that she gasped.

There was no mistaking those eyes, even in shadow and mist.

"Killian," she said, her body almost sagging with relief.

The young man's brow knitted. "Killian?" the faraway voice spoke again. "That's … not my name, love."

She frowned. "But it _is_," she insisted. She was sure of it now. Wherever this place was, _whatever_ it was, it was connected to _him_. "Killian Jones," she said firmly.

He blanched. "That's a _pirate _name," he said, an almost accusing tone in his voice.

She laughed a little then. "Since when have you ever considered that a bad thing?" she said.

"I think you have me confused with someone else." And he took off again.

"No, wait!" Emma called out, running after him. "Please don't leave me!"

"Don't you have someplace else to be?"

"I do!" she said, still following him. "But I don't know how to get back there … I'm lost … please help me. It's _you _I'm trying to get back to!"

He stopped then, turning back to face her. "You're a strange one," he said, looking at her quizzically, his features fading in and out of focus, as though she were looking at him through a veil.

"That's rich, coming from you," she retorted, biting back a grin. She knew without a doubt that somehow, she was communicating with a younger version of her pirate right now. She didn't really care about the hows or the whys right now … she just felt _better _with his presence here.

"Ooh, you're a feisty one," he said, a grin on his face. "I like you. All right, lass, I'll help you. What are you called?"

"Emma," she told him. "If I can't call you … well, what _is _your name, then?"

"Emma." He blinked at the name, and she thought she saw a flicker of recognition behind his too-blue eyes. But just like that, it was gone, replaced with a wary look then. "Peter," he said after a moment, and Emma frowned.

"Peter?" she repeated blandly, trying not to laugh. The name was just so … so _ordinary_. She couldn't reconcile the dashing swashbuckling man she had come to know with … _Peter_.

"That's what I said, innit?" he said, an irritated tone in his voice now.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I just … it's not what I was expecting," she mumbled. She had a nagging feeling in her brain, something she couldn't quiet put her finger on, but she did her best to push it aside. Whatever it was, it didn't matter right now. What mattered was that he was going to help her.

"So you want my help, but you insult my name," he said, but he laughed, so Emma knew it was all right. "Your world must be very strange indeed."

"Wait, you know I'm not from here?" Emma asked.

"It's fairly apparent," he said drolly, eyeing her pointedly.

"Touche," she said. "Do you know how I can get back?"

"Personally?" he said. "No."

Emma sighed. "Oh," she said, ducking her head in defeat. "Well, then … "

"But I can take you to someone who might."

She raised her head then, hope rising within her again. "Really?" she said.

"It's no easy undertaking, lass," he said, a warning tone that belied his youthful appearance in his voice now.

"I'll do whatever it takes," she said. "I _have _to get home. My son's waiting for me, and my parents and my … "

"Me?" he said with a smirk, and it was so familiar it made her heart ache. Apparently he hadn't forgotten her saying she was trying to get back to him. He leaned in a bit then and lowered his voice. "Tell me, then, love, just how close _are _we in your world?"

Emma gaped a bit. "I will smack you, you know," she told him.

"Do you promise?" He winked. "Don't tease me, Emma."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Oh, just walk," she said, shaking her head, reaching out to shove his shoulder. She frowned when her hand passed through him. Right. The apparition thing.

He frowned as well. "Well, there go _my _plans for later," he lamented.

"Shut up," she told him with a laugh as they started walking. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Honestly? I've no idea," he told her with a shrug.

"How do you not know?" she asked, confused.

"There's not really any way to keep track of time here."

She looked down at her watch, frozen at the moment she'd fallen into this strange world. "You don't have any way of keeping track of time at _all_?" she asked. This was so bizarre. What _was _this place?

"Children age normally up to sixteen. That's as old as anyone here gets. Then it just … stops. I've been sixteen for … awhile now. People come through from other worlds, and if they stay here, they just stay whatever age they happened to be when they came." He looked at her. "This person you think is me … in your world … he's older, then?"

"Well, yeah," Emma said, as though it should be obvious.

"Must've decided to leave," he mused, more to himself than to her.

"Leave?" She took a deep breath then. Things were starting to click together in her mind now, but she needed to hear it. "Killi — Peter, I mean," she said. "What _is _this place?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but just as he did, Emma felt herself being pulled roughly from behind. The vision of Peter started to fade from her sight as she felt arms encircling her then.

"No!" she shouted, struggling against whatever it was that was grabbing her.

"Emma!" Peter shouted, the voice faraway again, before he disappeared out of her sight completely.

"Let me go!" Emma cried, trying to wriggle free from whatever had her ensnared.

"Emma!"

She jabbed her elbow backward, connecting sharply with the object behind her. Apparently, it was a person, because she heard him grunt.

"Bloody hell, _Emma_!" he growled.

Wait.

That was …

"Emma Swan, if you don't wake up and stop fighting with me right this second, I'm going to bloody well throttle you!"

Her eyes flew open then. She was sitting back in the soft, velvety grass, her back pressed against something solid and familiar and warm and …

She turned her head, eyes wide. "Killian?" she sputtered.

"Bloody hell," he said again, his eyes stormy as he looked at her.

"Oh, my God, Killian!" she gasped, turning around and throwing her arms around him. "Is it really you?"

She felt him hesitate briefly before his arms encircled her. He sighed and she felt him inhale deeply against her hair. "Aye, lass, it's me," he said softly.

She held him tightly, breathing the scent of leather and sea and whatever else it was that was just _Killian_, thinking to herself that she wasn't letting go for anything, not now.

After a moment, he pulled away though, pushing back from her and standing up.

Emma frowned, looking up at him. "Killian?" she asked him, brow furrowed.

"What is the _matter _with you?" he shouted then, and Emma blinked at the anger in his voice. She stood up, not about to berated for … well, whatever it was she was getting berated for … while she was sitting down.

"What are you _talking _about?" she asked him, her own anger snapping.

"How could you just fall asleep unattended like that?" he said. "And with your feet in the bloody Dreamers' Despair! _Emma_."

"I was _tired_!" she shot back. "I've been walking for hours, and I have no idea where I am or how to get back or … " She trailed off, frowning. "Wait. The what?"

He sighed heavily, running his hand over his forehead, before gesturing out toward the water that Emma had fallen asleep beside. "It's called the Dreamers' Despair," he said, sounding tired. "You mustn't touch that water, Emma, not _ever_."

"Why?" she asked.

"People touch it, and they fall asleep, and they never wake up," he said, not pulling any punches with his words. "When you touched it, Emma, what happened?"

"Well, it made my ankle feel better, at first," she said, hugging her arms around herself. "But then I got … really sleepy. I thought it was just because I'd been walking for so long … " She trailed off. "So if you hadn't come … when you did … "

"High tide would have come for you instead."

Killian's face was still a mask of anger, but he took a step toward her, and his hand came to rest on her cheek. He didn't say anything else, he just kissed her, desperate and needy, his hook looping through one of her beltloops and pulling her closer to him.

Emma sank against him, one hand moving to tangle in his hair as she parted her lips for him, shivering as his tongue slid against hers. She felt the growl that rumbled in his chest as it reverberated against her own. His lips trailed down her neck and she moaned softly. "Killian," she breathed.

He lifted his head then, his eyes meeting hers, and he exhaled a shaky breath before moving his hand and his hook to her shoulder and pushing her to arm's length.

She didn't understand. "What's … "

"No more touching the water here, got it?" he said, and she nodded, rolling her eyes at his imperious tone. "We've got to get you home," he told her.

"We've got to get _us _home, you mean," she corrected.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He kissed her forehead and pulled her close. "Right you are, darling," he said quietly.

"Killian, where _are _we?" she asked him then, looking up at him from the warmth of his embrace.

He managed a small smile that she actually believed this time. "Oh, how did they put it in that bloody moving picture thing your lad had me watch?" he mused, thinking. "Right … second star to the right, and straight on til morning."

She swallowed thickly. She'd been right.

"Neverland," she breathed.

"Yes," he said, nodding. He let his fingers thread through her hair then. "And you've stardust in your hair. You must have landed on the other side of this island, by the Sea of Stars. It's beautiful there, I would've liked to seen your face when you saw it the first time." He sounded wistful, and Emma knew he was truly sorry to have missed it.

She felt her heart skip several beats from the way he was looking at her then, so tenderly, as though … well, as though she were precious to him.

"I … I dreamed of you," she said after a moment, nodding toward the water. "You were … younger, but it … it was you."

She felt his arms tighten around her a bit. "You dreamed of me here?" he said cautiously.

"I … yes," she said. "You were going to help me get home." She smiled at him a little. "Though … you told me your name … was Peter."

"Oh," he said, and from the look on his face, Emma could see that it was true. Suddenly that nagging feeling she'd had in her dream came back at her, full force.

Peter … Neverland … _Captain Hook_… it wasn't logical, and it didn't make any damn sense, and yet …

A hysterical laugh bubbled up out of her throat then. She couldn't help it. It was all so insane. "Are you Peter fucking Pan?" she asked.

"Ah, so you've heard of me," he said softly, and Emma smiled, remembering that he'd said the very same thing the first time they'd ever met.

"How does that even work? How can you be _both_?" she asked, shaking her head. "And how could I have possibly dreamed that, Killian?"

"I can tell you the story, if you really want to know, love," he said, letting his hand slide down her arm, fingers lacing with hers then. "Though it's not a happy tale, I assure you." He shook his head. "As for the rest, well … Nobody knows how the Dreamers' Despair works," he said after a long moment. "Whatever you dream is supposed to be good enough to keep you dreaming, forever." Suddenly he was smirking at her. "And you were dreaming of me."

Emma laughed a little. "Don't let it go to your head," she told him dryly.

"Oh, it's too late," he said. "I knew it, all along."

She rolled her eyes. "Knew _what_? There's nothing to know!"

"Keep telling yourself that, love," he said teasingly, but there was something in the way his hand tightened in hers then, the way his blue eyes seemed lit from within when he looked at her.

"How did you even get here, anyway?" Emma asked then, wanting to fill in the details, so when she did get back to Storybrooke, she would know exactly what she needed to do.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said with a shrug. "I jumped in after you."

Her breath caught a little then. He said it as if it was no big deal, as if it was just one of those things, as if _anyone _would do the same. "Just like that?" she asked, her voice quiet. "You weren't … hurt?"

"Hurt?" he asked, brow furrowed. "No, love, I was waiting for you, and … well, you know how the rest of the story goes. Portal, swirly magic, all that … "

There was more to it, something he wasn't saying, and she could tell. But she didn't want to push him right now. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He'd come after her. He'd come _for _her. And they'd get back to Storybrooke together.

"Do you know how to get us home?" she asked him then.

"Aye, I can get you home," he said after a pause. "We'll have to go clear across the realm though. We're at the Sea of Stars, which is as far south as south goes in Neverland. We need to go north. To the Hollow."

"The Hollow?" Emma asked, looking at him.

"It's where the fairies live," he said. "And no, they're not a thing like those sodding nuns from Storybrooke," he added pointedly.

"Fairies?" Emma said, a grin tugging at her lips. "Seriously?"

He smiled at her reaction. "Would you like to meet them, love?"

"Yes," she said, her grin widening then. "I think I would."

"Then let's away, lass," he said, pulling on her hand. "And I'll show you Neverland."

She didn't move to follow him right away, instead she tugged back on his hand, pulling him back to her. She kissed him gently. "Thank you," she told him. "For coming after me. I thought … I thought I was lost, and … alone."

A strange light filled his eyes then, and she swore she heard his breath hitch. He raised her hand, brushing his lips lightly over her knuckles. "You don't need to thank me, Emma," he said softly. "It's not like I had any bloody choice."

"You always have a choice," Emma said.

"Well, then, I guess I've made mine, haven't I?" His eyes stayed locked on hers, and Emma knew that from this moment on, nothing was ever going to be the same again.

It was far too late for her to try and deny it any more.

_So have I …_


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Death

**A/N: **I'm going to be gone from now til Sunday, so I wanted to get this posted before I left. It has a scary title, because it's Death, but Death in the Tarot is not literal. What it actually is, is a transformation. The end AND the beginning of something. In this case, it's the end of everything that's come before … everything starts over now. Everything is new. And _nothing_ is going to be the way it used to be. You'll see what I mean when you read it. And hopefully … well, hopefully it will get you through til Sunday. (Oh, and this chapter? This chapter is rated M ... but I don't think it's enough to make the entire fic's rating change just yet.)

**Chapter Thirteen**  
_**Death**_  
_"And it's over, and I'm going under. But I'm not giving up, I'm just giving in … "_

"You know," Emma said as she followed Killian back the way she'd come from originally. He had said that there was actually a bridge, not far from where she'd landed, that would lead them onto the mainland of Neverland. The Sea of Stars was a gateway, he'd explained. Anyone who portal jumped — rare though it might be — ended up there.

"At least it's a pretty place," Emma had mused.

Killian had laughed. "Aye, that it is," he'd said, giving her a grin.

He wasn't laughing now though. His face was an unreadable mask of determination and … something else Emma couldn't quite put her finger on. But it unsettled her. There was something he wasn't saying, and she meant to get it out of him.

"What?" he asked her, looking back at her.

"Oh," Emma said, coming out of her reverie as they reached the top of a small rise of land now. She shook her head. "It's nothing."

"No, no, you started in with it, so come, let's have it," he said, giving her a sideways look.

She wrinkled her nose. There was no getting out of it now, he'd never relent on the topic, and she knew it.

"Well, it's silly, and I don't know why I'm telling you, because all it's going to do is give you a bigger ego than you already have," she said, fighting back a grin, "but when I was little, growing up in foster care, the stories about Peter Pan and Neverland were always my favorites."

Instead of making some smartass response, like she'd expected him to, he just stopped walking and turned to look at her. His expression was curious. "Foster care?" he asked her.

"Oh," she said, trying to think of the best way to describe it. "They put kids … um, without families … into homes with other families. It's not a permanent solution, the kids aren't adopted or anything, I mean sometimes they are, but usually the kids just end up going from family to family until they turn seventeen or eighteen." She frowned.

"That's monstrously cruel," was Killian's assessment. "What kind of life is that for a child?"

Emma just shrugged. She didn't really have an answer for that. "Anyway," she said, "like I was saying … it's just sorta funny that those stories were always my favorite and now … well … " She gestured around them.

"This coming from the lass who swears she doesn't believe in fate," Killian said dryly. Ah, there was the smartass she'd been waiting for.

"Well," she said, jutting out her chin defensively. "I've been wrong before."

He gave her a halfhearted smile, then started walking again.

She frowned. "Hey," she said, tugging on his hand, which was still holding hers.

"Hmm?" he said, turning his head to look back at her.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" she asked him, her brows knitted in concern. He gave her a look that clearly said he didn't know what she was talking about. She shook her head. "Don't play dumb with me," she said.

"Princess, if you hadn't noticed, we've a fair jaunt ahead of us to get you home," he said, his tone cool.

She blinked a bit, surprised by the iciness of his voice. "I'm really sorry to have caused you any trouble," she snapped. "I mean, it wasn't like I _jumped _into the portal going 'gosh, I sure would like to make Killian's life just a little bit more miserable tonight'."

He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. "You finished now?" he asked her, his lips twitching a bit. "Feel better?"

"No," Emma grumbled, making a face at him. "You're acting _weird_, and I don't like it."

There was a moment of silence, where he just looked at her blankly, his expression that same unreadable one he'd had since finding her here. Then she saw a flicker in his blue eyes, a familiar sort of glow, and he smirked, a real smirk, the kind that sent Emma's mind straight to places it didn't need to be. "So you're finally admitting it, then?" he said, cocking a brow at her.

"Admitting what?" she asked warily, not sure she liked where this was going. (That was a lie. If anything, she was sorta wishing it would go there _faster_.)

Before she could even blink, he gave her a spin, as though they were dancing, pressing himself against her back, his arm around her waist tightly, holding her against him. She could feel his lips against her ear, his breath tickling her skin and setting a flurry of butterflies loose in her stomach. "I think you know what," he breathed by her ear.

"Tell me anyway," she breathed back, not really sure where this bold, sassy Emma was coming from. It must be an affect of spending too much time with _him_.

He grazed his teeth over her earlobe, and she felt his stubble against her jaw. She felt hot and shivery all at once, and she really didn't know how much longer they could go on like this.

"You like knowing that I want you," he said, his voice low and feral and right by her ear still. She bit her lip as she felt his hand slide lower down her stomach. "Admit it."

She made a noise that might have been a yes, but words seemed to be failing her in this moment. He chuckled, the sound resonating through her whole body. His hand slipped below the waistband of her jeans, calloused fingers against soft flesh, mere inches from her most sensitive of spots. She inhaled sharply.

"You're going to have to do better than that, love," he breathed. "Say it."

It was so easy, simple words — _I want you,_ or _God, yes,_ or even just_ Please_— and yet they stuck in her throat. It was a leap she needed to make, and she needed to make it with him … but she wasn't quite ready to jump yet.

It wasn't as though she were some quivering virgin. She'd been nothing _but _a one-night stand kinda girl ever since Neal …

But that's not what this was, with Killian. It was _more_ than that, and when she finally took that leap, it was going to be because she meant it. Like, in the _forever _kind of way.

At her hesitance, Killian stilled against her, sighing heavily. "Still?" he asked her, his voice sad and a little irritated. Not that she could blame him. She was irritated with _herself_. He rested his forehead against her shoulder for a moment before releasing her.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment.

He shook his head, looking at her. "Nothing to be sorry about," he said, pushing her hair off her shoulder gently. His expression was back to being guarded again. "But you know, darling, time has a way of making decisions for you."

She frowned. That was a weird thing to say. "What does that mean?" she asked him uncertainly.

He blew out an exasperated breath. "Exactly what I said," he told her. "Sometimes a person waits too long and whatever it is they were hesitating about is no longer an issue."

"What are you _saying_?" she asked, bristling. "Are you saying that … that you're going to leave me if I take too long for your liking?" She felt a little sick to her stomach as she said the words.

He looked like she'd just slapped him. "Is that what you think of me?" he asked her. "After _everything, _that's what you think? I jumped into this bloody portal, _for you_, I gave up sodding_ everything _to come after you, and that's what you think?"

"What does that _mean_? What do you mean, you gave up everything?" she asked, her tone sharp. "Killian, _what _is going on?"

He shook his head, looking defeated. "It doesn't matter, does it? The only thing that matters is getting you back to your family."

"And what about you?"

He gave her a wry smile. "I have no family."

"That's not what I meant," she said. She suddenly felt icy cold all over. "Killian … "

"Let's just keep walking," he said, turning away from her.

Emma stood frozen to the spot, refusing to follow. "No," she said. "I'm not … I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me what's going on."

"_Nothing_ is bloody well going on," he snapped at her. "Except for you being the same stubborn bint you've always been. Are you ever just going to _trust_ me, Emma?"

She looked at him, into his eyes, and shook her head. "You're _lying_," she hissed at him. "You're talking to me about _trust_ and you're _lying _to me!"

He stopped suddenly, his mouth a thin line, and pulled her up against him, kissing her fiercely. "That's where the _trust _comes in, darling," he hissed against her lips.

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to …

She pulled him back to her, kissing him just as fervently, gasping at the intensity she felt right now.

"Emma," he moaned against her lips, before trailing his mouth down her neck.  
She tilted her head, offering him the column of her throat. Her hands fisted in his shirt, and his name escaped her lips breathily. His hand was pressed against the juncture of her thighs now, rubbing her through the fabric of her jeans, and she was no longer inclined to tell him to stop.

"Yes," she gasped, pressing herself against him.

He raised his head, his eyes finding hers. A bit of his hair had fallen into his eyes, and he looked so perfect, there was no way he could possibly be real. "Yes?" he breathed and she nodded, drawing his face back to hers, kissing him hungrily as they fell to the ground.

He somehow managed to get her out of her sweater and bra without ripping the fabric of either with his hook, and he inhaled sharply as he looked at her. "Bloody hell, Emma," he sighed, and she shivered. No one had ever looked at her the way he did.

He dipped his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat, before he trailed his mouth lower. She let out a sharp cry when he wrapped his lips around one of her nipples, her body arching up into his touch. "Killian!" Her hands reached for the button on the borrowed jeans he still wore, desperate now as she pushed them off of him.

She felt, rather than heard, his sharp intake of breath when she grasped him. He moaned when she began to stroke him gently. "_Emma_," he breathed raggedly, and it sounded like a prayer from his lips.

Her other hand tugged at his hair, wanting his lips back on hers again. He obliged, and his kiss was insistent now, needy and desperate and full of longing. It took her breath away. She managed to wriggle out of her jeans in what had to be record time. She sucked lightly on his bottom lip, and felt him shiver as she guided him to her center now.

She could feel him shuddering with the restraint of holding himself back. "Emma," he breathed again, pulling away from her kiss to look at her face, his eyes questioning, uncertain.

"Please," she murmured, her eyes on his as she pushed her hips back against him.  
That was all he needed. He plunged into her, and she cried out, unable to stop herself. Her body arched into his, her fingers digging into his biceps as she rocked back against him.

He had his face pressed against her neck, and she could hear him breathing her name, gasping, his breath against her skin sending jolts of electricity through her.

It had never felt like _this_, not ever. Her whole body reacted to every move he made, every single one of their breaths felt like it was in unison, the whole world seemed to stop on its axis in this moment, as though there was nothing else that had ever existed, or ever would.

When her world exploded, he swallowed the cry she made with his lips over hers, his own moans and gasps mingling with hers. "Oh, Emma," he gasped, and she watched his face, mesmerized by the pleasure she saw there as he joined her, falling over that edge into pure oblivion.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and smiling a bit as she felt his lips brush over her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, finally meeting hers again.

"It's about bloody time," he breathed then, and she cracked one eye open to see his cheeky smirk. She punched him on the shoulder, which only made him smirk more. "I do love this violent streak of yours," he murmured, burying his face at the crook of her neck.

"You would," she said dryly, with a smirk of her own. He shrugged, and she shook her head. "We should … rest," she said then. "Before we continue on."

"Rest or … _rest_?" he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"The kind of rest that actually involves sleeping," Emma told him, trying not to laugh.

"That's no bloody fun," he muttered, but he moved to nestle himself behind her, his arm over her waist and holding her against him in the soft grass.

She closed her eyes, waited until she heard his breathing even out, waited even past that, just waited, wondering when the regret was going to kick in.

It never did, and the realization hit her like a slap in the face.

_She loved him._

But it didn't change anything. He was _lying _to her about something, and whatever it was, she knew it was something big.

He shifted a little in his sleep, mumbled something that sounded like her name, and she turned her head to look at him. He was still asleep, and he looked peaceful right now, younger, sort of like the boy she'd seen in her dream.

She might not be sorry about anything else, but she would definitely be sorry about this.

But she had to.

He was _lying_.

_And she loved him._

Carefully, she slipped out of his grasp, slowly, so as not to wake him. She found her clothes, strewn amidst the grass, and quietly got dressed.

She cast one last glance at him, before turning in the direction they had been headed. She'd find the bridge to Neverland herself, and she'd find the Hollow where the fairies lived too if she had to.

"I'm sorry," she whispered over her shoulder before she started walking away.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Temperance

**A/N: **This is a Killian POV, yay! I love writing him, like, probably more than I should. And I love this chapter. This is Temperance, which is one of those good cards in the Tarot. It's all about opposites finding a balance and a way to coexist with each other. There's some angst here, because Killian has a lot going on in his brain, but overall, I think it's just the sort of chapter we can all use today, in light of the new episode coming up. Only seven more chapters of this baby to go, can you believe it? I love all of you who are reading this and I am glad you've all enjoyed it so far. I only hope I don't disappoint you as we hit the home stretch.

**Chapter Fourteen**  
_**Temperance**_  
_"I have this feeling that I finally found the words to say, but I can't tell you if you turn around and runaway … "_

It was better than any dream he'd had about it. When she had finally pulled him back to her, and kissed him like she _meant _it, at last, the remaining vestiges of his resolve when it came to her crumbled, and he had succumbed to everything she'd offered.

He really should have known better.

But, once again, he'd gone and been a bleeding idiot when it came to her. There was a moment that their eyes had met, when his fingers had been pressing into her hip and her nails had been digging into his biceps as he'd buried himself in her, and he was sure nothing had ever been more right in his entire life — and he'd seen it reflected there, in those stormy eyes of hers.

He should've known he'd wake up alone.

Didn't make it sting any less, though.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, rolling onto his back and hitting his head against the ground gently. With a growl of frustration, he finally forced himself to his feet, finding his discarded clothes and hastily throwing them back on.

She couldn't have gotten far. And he knew this place like the back of his hand … you didn't spend an unknown amount of years in a place — _twice_— without learning all the tricks. She'd be looking for the bridge, of course. She probably had it in her mind to traverse Neverland alone.

"Brilliant plan, lass," he muttered as he made his way in that direction. He didn't even want to start listing all the ways that particular plan could go pear-shaped. And that was _before_ she even reached the Hollow. The pixies weren't like to talk to her, seeing as she didn't even speak the language. He wasn't even sure they'd speak to him, let alone a veritable stranger to these part.s.

"_Swan_!" he shouted, loudly, loud enough that if she was in the vicinity (and she was, he knew it), she would hear it. And she would know he was pissed.

Good. He was past caring whether or not he hurt her feelings. Seemed to him she could use it. It wasn't fair for him to be the only one arse over elbows here.

And he _wasn't_. He knew he wasn't, and that was the bloody bitch of it all. But instead of staying and facing up to … whatever it was, Emma chose to run away. Again, and again, and again, as if somehow, that would magically make things disappear.

Not this time.

"Think a-bloody-gain," he said, shaking his head and swinging up on a low-hanging branch of one of the pink-leaved trees that grew along the banks of the Sea of Stars. From here, he could see the top of her blonde head, and she was heading in the complete _wrong _direction.

Part of him just wanted to let her wander. Would serve her right, wouldn't it? After all, she'd left him hanging after …

He had a flash then, golden hair that smelled of lavender fanned out in the soft emerald grass, eyelids fluttering closed, soft whimpers of pleasure escaping those perfect pink lips. He hadn't thought it possible, for her to be _more _beautiful than she already was, but he'd been wrong. He could still feel the way she'd squeezed around him when he'd been inside her, and it made him ache.

No. He couldn't just let her wander.

He brought his fingers to his lips then, and let out a sharp whistle.

She whirled around, looking for the sound, alarm on her features. He smirked a bit, deftly crossing the branches, until he was in the tree directly in front of her.

She looked up, obviously hearing the rustle of the leaves. Her expression was guarded, but curious. "H-hello?" she said, and Killian rolled his eyes.

Oy, she wouldn't last a day on her own here.

He dropped to the ground in front of her, arms crossed, no longer smirking. Oh, he might not be about to let her wander about Neverland on her own, but it didn't mean she was forgiven. Not when he'd thought …

Bloody hell. He didn't know what he'd thought. But he was pretty sodding sure he wasn't the only one who had come to a startling revelation back there in the grass.

He'd be damned if he was just letting her go.

Her eyes widened a bit when he landed, and she backed up a half-step before stopping, straightening her spine, and giving him a defiant look.

He arched a brow at her. Apparently, neither one of them wanted to be the first one to speak here.

"Please tell me, love, that you're sleepwalking," he said, knowing better than to wait on her to speak. She'd just bloody take off again, stubborn bint.

She frowned, brow furrowing. "I … no, I was … "

He held up a hand. "Spare me," he said, and his biting tone surprised even him. "And while I'm all for another rousing round of Emma's Disappearing Act, I rather figured you might actually want to get home to your family in one piece." He gestured around them then. "Unless you'd care to wager that you know more about this place, and its many inherent dangers, than I do."

She bit her lip, looking down. Was that … _shame_ he was seeing on her face? Was she going to spout off a list of _regrets _now?

Like hell.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he snapped.

"Stop yelling at me!" she snapped back, her eyes shooting sparks at him now.

"Darling, I haven't even _begun _to yell," he said, gritting his teeth. "Not that you wouldn't bloody well deserve it if I did!"

"_Excuse _me?"

He laughed bitterly. "Oh, don't give me that," he said. "I know you like to bury your head in the ground any time things get a little bit too intense for you to deal with, but it's too late for that now, love."

She waved her hand in a gesture that he was sure was meant to be dismissive, but he could see the way her chest was heaving, the slight tremble in her lower lip. "Just because we had sex … "

She might just as well have slapped him across the face. For all his bravado, there was no way he could keep the hurt from showing in his eyes at those words. He caught her wrist with his hand then, causing her to finally look up at him. "Is that what you think happened?" he asked her, his tone low and even.

She shook her head, looking down again, and he could see the flash of misery in her eyes. He felt his heart clench at the sight, his anger giving way to fear then.

"Emma, if I overstepped, if I pushed too hard, then I'm sorry," he said, and he was earnest with his words then. The _last _thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her. "I only thought … "

She shook her head. "No, Killian, it wasn't you," she said softly, looking back at him. Her eyes looked glassy, and he realized she was fighting back tears. "I'm not sorry about … about any of it," she whispered. Her shoulders slumped. "That's why I left."

"Come again?" he asked, confused now.

"Because I wasn't sorry," she said, as though it explained everything. "Because I'm used to waking up and feeling regret."

His brow furrowed. "You were planning on regretting me?"

"I thought I was," she said, sighing. "I just don't understand what's going on here, Killian."

He wanted to ask her, _do you love me? _but he found that he was desperately afraid of what her answer might be. He'd waited three hundred years for a chance to exact his revenge on his Crocodile, and in one second, he'd given it up.

For Emma.

"Emma," he said, though he didn't really have anything else planned to say. He just needed her to _look_at him.

She did, and he could see a veritable tempest of emotions in those eyes of hers. She swiped the back of her hand over her cheek, and that's when he noticed the tears sparking on her cheeks. Slowly, he reached up with his hand.

"Don't cry, lass," he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek. He found himself transfixed by her eyes, which were locked on his now. "You know I won't let anything happen to you."

She frowned a bit then. "I don't need to be taken care of," she said, and he could feel her starting to pull away. His hook looped around her wrist, holding her in place.

"But you do," he said. "You don't have to be brave and strong all the time, Emma. It's all right to let someone else take over every once in awhile."

"I don't know how to do that," she said, shaking her head.

"It's very simple, love," he said, sliding his hand into her hair now, letting his fingers thread through the silken tresses. "Just relax, and let me take care of you. I'll get you through Neverland, I'll get you _home_, and we'll figure out the rest as we go."

"Why?" she asked. "I mean … after everything I've put you through … "

"Emma, shhh," he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, afraid of what he might let slip if she kept pushing him.

The reason he was still here, the reason he hadn't turned and left her to her own devices, the reasons he'd jumped through the portal … it all came down to one thing.

He was madly in love with her.

And for as much as he wanted to _tell_ her, he was afraid it would only make her run again. He didn't want her to run. It was going to be hard enough sending her back to Storybrooke without him, but he knew it was the way it had to be.

To love was to sacrifice. He'd heard the saying before, but he'd never truly understood it, not until now.

Honestly, he had never _wanted_ to understand it. He'd lived his long life for himself, selfishly moving from one port of call to the next. He was always looking for the next thrill, or a new way to exact his revenge on his Crocodile. But at the end of it all, he'd found _her_, and gods help him, he was prepared to die for her if he had to.

It should be scarier, this realization. But standing here, feeling her lips pressed against his, it somehow seemed like the easiest decision in the world.

"We'll figure it out together?" she asked him then, her voice quiet as she pulled back from the kiss.

"We will," he said, raising her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles. "First thing is getting you back to your lad, though."

She managed a smile then. "How long do you think it will take?" she asked.

"There's no way to know here," he said. "But I'd imagine … in your world, it'll be … a few weeks."

She frowned. "That's a long time," she said softly.

His heart seized a bit, wondering how she'd react to the news that he'd …

No. Now was not the time to tell her. She was going to be _so angry_ with him when she found out … but that was the plan. If she was pissed off, it'd be easier for her to move on. To forget him.

But right now, he had her, and he knew it was selfish, but there were some habits that were never going to die. He'd make the most of the time they had together, here in Neverland. For awhile, at least, he could pretend like it was going to last. That he and Emma were truly written in the stars, like her parents were.

It was all a lie. But it was such a beautiful one that he could almost, almost convince himself it was real.

He only hoped that in time — when the pain of it had finally worn off — Emma would understand _why_.

"They'll be worried about you, no doubt," he said, nodding then. "But they'll just be happy to have you back."

"Happy to have _us_ back, you mean," Emma corrected, smiling at him.

"I doubt anyone in Storybrooke is missing me overmuch," he said, managing a weak smile of his own.

"Henry is, I bet," she said. "He likes you a lot."

"And that doesn't worry you?" he asked her, giving a short chuckle and doing his best to keep his tone light, not wanting to betray the pain he felt now.

Her eyes narrowed then. "You're not telling me something," she said, but this time, she didn't pull back from him. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned forward. "But if you tell me it's nothing, I'm going to believe you." She brushed her lips over his, her arms going around his neck.

"And why is that, love?" he asked, his arms going around her waist, and pulling her closer, wanting to forget everything but this moment for the time being.

She leaned forward, letting her lips brush over his ear as she whispered. "I'm trying something new," she breathed. "It's called trust."

He closed his eyes, shivering at her words. He turned his head, catching her lips with his own then, kissing her with the desperation of a dying man.

She moaned, parting her lips for him, her tongue sliding out to tangle with his. He felt her hands fist in his hair and his arms tightened around her waist.

"Don't run away from me again, Emma," he gasped against her lips when they finally came up for air.

She shook her head, her eyes on his, wide and expectant and searching. "Never, never, never," she whispered, kissing him again, and again, and again, as they once again found themselves falling to the ground in a tangle.

Clothes were discarded with nary a care for where they ended up, and she had him pressed against the soft grass before he could even think to protest (not that he would). She rose above him, looking for all the world like some sort of goddess that he shouldn't be allowed to even _gaze_ upon, let alone touch.

The stars that hung low to the earth here caught in her hair as she rode him, her fingers pressing against his chest as she rocked her hips against his. He was unable to take his eyes off of her, in awe of everything she did, everything she was. His hand slid around between them, one finger slowly circling her most sensitive of spots.

She gasped and he smirked, and she started moving her hips faster. He moaned, and she sighed, and their mingled sounds of pleasure became the only noises that mattered in all of existence.

"Killian!" she cried out then, her sweet mouth falling open, her head falling back as the waves of pleasure hit her. Her inner walls pulsed around him, and he pulled her down to him, kissing her as he felt himself topple over the edge with her.

"Emma," he breathed, his lips still on hers. "Emma, Emma."

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she kissed him, before she collapsed against him, panting heavily. "Amazing," she said breathily, and he chuckled a bit.

"You're not so bad yourself, love," he said lightly.

She pinched him lightly on the side, and he let out a small yelp. She laughed, then looked up at him. "I'm sorry," she said, and he could see how much she meant it when their eyes met.

"Just don't do it again," he said, his hand going around the back of her head and pulling her in closer. He just barely brushed his lips over hers, then kissed the tip of her nose.

She smiled then. "Killian … " Then she shook her head. "Never mind. Let's just rest. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

"Even if you're not, I'll just chase you down again, darling," he said with a smirk. "I told you before, I love a challenge."

She rolled her eyes, but he could see something flicker in their depths. "Thank you," she said softly, before resting her head on his chest.

He felt her breathing even out long before he started to feel tired himself. His hand still rested on the back of her head, and he absently let her hair slip through his fingers. He looked up at the starry expanse of the heavens above, and closed his eyes, listening for the sound of the star song. He hadn't heard it in so long.

Tonight, it seemed to be singing_ maybe, maybe, maybe …_

_Maybe_ was no promise, but it was better than nothing, he supposed.

_Maybe_ they were meant to be. It certainly felt that way right now. And _maybe_ the fairies would surprise him, and _maybe_ he'd find his way back with her, after all.

_Maybe, maybe, maybe …_


	16. Chapter Fifteen: The Devil

**A/N: **The Devil in the Tarot symbolizes those things that are keeping us bound, keeping us from becoming what we're truly meant to be. In this story, it's just the last little push that will force Emma to deal with … oh, just EVERYTHING. This chapter took a lot of time to get to the place I needed it to get to for the rest of the story, so I do hope you enjoy it. Thanks again for reading, following, reviewing ... we're in the homestretch now but there's soooo much more to come.

**Chapter Fifteen**  
_**The Devil**_  
_"You caused my heart to bleed and you still owe me a reason, 'cause I can't figure out why … "_

"Tell me," Emma said as they crested the top of another hill. She could see the bridge in the distance now, not too far. The bridge to Neverland. As amazing as this little island had been, she found she was a bit nervous to see the rest of the realm. Killian kept warning her of the dangers hidden amongst all the beauty. But so far, all she'd seen was a veritable paradise.

"Tell you what?" he asked with a grin, taking her hand in his and helping her up to the top of the small hill.

She cocked her head at him, giving him a look. "_Tell_ me," she said. "You know. How it is you're both."

"Ah, you want to hear the story, then?" he said, nodding. "It's not exactly the stuff dreams are made of, love."

Her mouth was a thin line. "Neither is my life, and somehow I survive," she responded.

"That hurts me, you know," he said, placing his hook over his heart dramatically.

"You actually expect a compliment right now, don't you?" she said dryly.

"Well, it wouldn't hurt," he said, winking at her. "It never goes amiss to hear you're the best someone's ever had."

"But I was told never to lie," she quipped, widening her eyes and gasping exaggeratedly at him. She gave a little shriek when she found herself pulled into his arms, wriggling half-heartedly. She didn't really _want_ him to let her go, but she had to put on the show.

"You are monstrously cruel," he told her, smirking a bit before dipping his head, pressing his lips to hers. She succumbed to his kiss for a moment, sighing against his mouth and allowing him to deepen it, before finally pulling back.

"Nope, you're not getting out of it," she told him, placing her hand over his mouth and pushing him back a bit when he tried to lean in again. His lips really ought to be classified as deadly weapons. "Tell me!" He pouted, and she shook her head. "It's just ridiculous when you do that," she told him. She pecked his lips gently. "Come on, I really want to know, Killian."

He sighed, nodding his head in the direction of the bridge. "All right, lass. Let's keep walking and I'll fill you in. Once we make it to the mainland, we'll need to find a ship."

"A ship?" she asked.

"Aye, you may have heard of it," he said teasingly. "Big seafaring vessel."

She smacked his arm. "Don't be a smartass," she muttered, laughing a little. "I just … why?"

"Unless you want to traverse the entirety of the map — and trust me, you do not — a ship is the fastest, most direct way to get to the Hollow."

"And you can sail it, yourself?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm not like to be looking for a galleon, love," he said with an amused light in his eye. "A small skiff will suit our needs just fine. And you can help."

Her frown deepened. "Do I look like a sailor to you?" she asked him.

He gave her his brightest grin then. "No, you don't. But I wasn't lying when I told you you'd make a hell of a pirate. And don't you think it's high time you learned a little something new? Come, you know you're just dying to steer my ship."

She made a face at him. "Do you have to make _everything_ sound obscene?"

"It's a gift," he said, still grinning infuriatingly. At her expression then, he burst out laughing. "Oh, come now, Emma, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I think I left it back on that shore where I almost drown," she grumbled.

He let his fingers lace with hers as they walked, a move that was becoming familiar and comforting to Emma. She had no idea how long they'd been in Neverland … time seemed to be stuck in a permanent state of evenfall. It could have been days that they'd been here. Or weeks. She didn't like to think about that … she didn't like to think of how long she'd been away from her family.

She was just so glad — and she couldn't believe she was admitting it, even to herself — to have Killian with her. "Are you going to keep talking about ships or are you going to tell me your story?" she asked him then.

"You've no patience," he told her, but the amusement never left his face. "All right, all right, I can see you're not about to let this one go." He sighed heavily. "I suppose in your world, you have tales of your own, about me, my story?"

Emma nodded. "We do. But I'm more interested in the truth, Killian," she said. "Especially since the tales we have do not _ever_ mention Peter Pan becoming Captain Hook," she pointed out.

"Point taken," he said. They continued walking, the stone bridge coming into view just up ahead then. "I don't remember coming here the first time," he said. "I remember being very small when my parents died … I was younger than your lad, must've been six, maybe seven. I don't even … I don't even remember how they died. It was so long ago." He shook his head. "No matter. The fact remains that they died, and I was sent to live with some distant uncle or other, until he got sick of taking care of me, and sent me elsewhere."

Emma nodded, listening intently. It was a familiar tale. Not that she could relate, exactly, to the death of her parents, but she knew what it was to be alone in the world, to be scared, to be cast off to whoever might take you. Unconsciously, her hand tightened in Killian's.

"Peter Pan was an orphan," she said softly, remembering the stories she had so loved growing up. It was so strange to think that the boy she'd felt such a kinship with back in her lonely childhood was now the man she was standing here with now. If she believed in such things, she would call it fate.

"Aye," he said, just as softly. He gave her a gentle nudge with his elbow then, causing her to look up, breaking her reverie as she looked at him. He gave her a quick grin, which she returned wanly. "You did ask to hear it, love," he reminded her.

"I know I did," she repeated. "I just … "

"Didn't think it'd hit so close to home?" he finished. "At the risk of upsetting you, darling, you do know that we have far more in common than you'd care to admit."

"I suppose that we do," she conceded, giving him a brighter smile now. "Go on, please."

"Well, after about the … fourth?" he said, thinking for a moment, then nodding, "yes. After the fourth distant relative decided I was a bit too much of a handful," he cast a sidelong look at Emma after that, but she kept her face impassive, "I ended up at an orphanage."

Emma frowned then. "I'm so sorry," she said softly. They had reached the bridge by now, and Emma leaned against the side, her face upturned to watch his as he talked.

He shrugged. "That's the way of it, love," he said. "I know you're no stranger to such a system."

She looked down. "It doesn't mean I'd wish it on anyone else," she said softly. "So what happened then?"

His eyebrows knitted then, and Emma could tell that he was trying to recall a memory long since gone. She had to remind herself sometimes that he was very very old, he'd lived a long time and seen many a thing that she couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I can't rightly tell you," he finally said. "All I know is that I went to sleep one night, and when I woke up, I was … well … " He gestured. "I remember that one of the caretakers at the orphanage, she seemed a bit … off. There were whispers that she was mad, but we children all loved her. She was always talking about a place with fairies and where children never grew up. My best guess is that my coming here, the first time, had something to do with her."

He shrugged, and Emma noticed the sadness in his eyes then. She could imagine him as a small boy, having lost everyone and everything he'd ever loved … in a way, whoever this mystery benefactress of his was, she reminded Emma of Mary-Margaret. She had given a Henry a book of stories when he had been at his lowest, and look where it had gotten them all. "But it was so long ago, and I'm not like to ever figure it out for certain. All I know is that I ended up here. And I stayed. Why wouldn't I?"

They had resumed walking, and Emma noted that the bridge was steadily inclining upwards. "What the hell kind of bridge is this?" she asked Killian, looking at him.  
He gave her a smile. "Oh, love," he said, shaking his head. "You haven't the first clue what you're in for, have you?"

"We're going … up," she said, brow furrowed.

"You're quite the observant lass, aren't you?" he teased. "Aye, we're going up. That's where Neverland is."

"How far up?" Emma wanted to know, eyebrow cocked.

He leaned in then, his lips against her ear. "All the way, love," he breathed, and she shivered a bit.

"But it's … an island, you said? Or a string of islands? Or … I mean, we're taking a boat? And it's … in the _sky_?"

He laughed, shaking his head a bit as he pulled her into his arms again. "Leave it to someone with no imagination to think that the worlds out there end at the sky," he said. "You've always just thought it was clouds and air above you?"

They continued climbing, and Emma was reminded briefly of climbing that beanstalk with him. Though this was a lot less taxing, she had to say. It was just a nice walk … that happened to be winding up into the clouds.

"This has got to be a dream," she murmured.

He gave her a look. "Thoughts like that will get you in a world of trouble here," he said warningly. "You've got to leave your doubts and indecisions behind, or Neverland will deny you entrance."

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Oh, seriously," he told her, his eyes wide and earnest. "Neverland is beautiful — you've never seen it's like, I assure you. But it's fraught with peril too. And if you're not careful, vigilant, you can wind up lost forever."

"Are you just saying that so I'll feel all indebted to you later on? Are you expecting some sort of reward?" she said lightly, earning herself a smirk from her too-handsome pirate.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of some way to repay me, love," he said huskily.

She made a face at him and chose to keep walking. "Anyway," she said pointedly, and he chuckled a bit. "So you stayed. But obviously … I mean, you did leave, because you're not still a sixteen-year-old boy … though your mind might suggest otherwise," she said.

"Ouch," he said, grinning.

"So what happened?"

"Nothing of major importance," he said, and Emma could tell that he was being sincere. "I just started thinking about the things I'd left behind, and wondering … and before I knew it, I was seeking the aid of the pixies. I didn't know that it'd be damn near impossible to get back to Neverland, or I might never have left."

It all started to click together then. "So you became a pirate … "

"To find a way back here," he said, as though it were the simplest of all things to figure out. "The only time I was ever truly happy was when I was here," he said, his tone wistful then. "Until I met Milah."

Emma nodded, feeling a little pang in her gut when he mentioned Milah. Obviously she couldn't compare herself to his lost love … Milah was something Emma didn't think she could ever be … someone he'd be willing to forsake all other things for.

It made her heart ache a little, knowing that she was absolutely falling for him … and knowing he would never ever be able to feel the same way back.

"So … Killian Jones?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.

He smiled fondly. "One of the only things I remember about my mother was that she used to read me a story, it was my favorite story. He was … a prince or some such thing, and he had a great many adventures that seemed like just the thing to my young mind." He shrugged. "When I left Neverland, the first time, I didn't want to be Peter any more. But the only thing I could clearly remember was that story."  
Emma couldn't help it, she smiled, a small laugh bubbling up from her throat.

"You're kind of hopelessly whimsical, aren't you?" she asked him, affection heavy in her voice. "Though I suppose that's to be expected, given the truth of who you are." She shook her head. "It's still sort of … unclear, though. How the stories got it so wrong."

Killian shrugged. "They seemed to get everyone else a little wrong too, did they not?"

"Fair enough," she conceded, then eyed him out of the corner of her eye. "So … what about Wendy?"

He arched a brow at her. "Who?"

She blew out a breath. "In all the stories, there's a girl called Wendy who … Peter brings to Neverland," she said.

He laughed. "Oh, like the moving pictures your lad showed me," he said, then shook his head. "I've never brought anyone here, love," he said. "As far as I know, this Wendy is just a myth." His eyes softened a bit as he looked at her then, and Emma really couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're sort of supposed to be just a myth too," she said dryly. "On _two_ counts, come to think of it."

"Perhaps whoever wrote the story was merely thinking ahead," Killian said, coming to stop before an archway. Whatever lie on the other side of it remained to be seen though, for there was a swirl pinkish-purple fog obstructing the view. Emma could see some of the stars clinging to the veil here, and part of her knew that stepping through it was going to change her life irrevocably.  
Neverland.

It was real. It _existed_. And the boy she'd grown up reading about, feeling such deep camraderie with all those lonely years, the boy she'd grown up _dreaming_ about, he was real too. And he was reaching for her hand then, pulling her close and kissing her softly. "I've never brought anyone here, until now. Perhaps she's meant to be _you_."

Emma could feel her heartbeat quicken, and once again she wondered how it was he was able to affect her like this, like no one ever had. She heard that little voice in her head again, the one that kept insisting that she start believing in fate, because he might just be hers. "Are you sure you want to take me there with you?" she asked him quietly. "It seems like a place that's … very special to you and I … "

"Emma, shhh," he said softly, his lips on hers again. This time when he kissed her, she had flashes, flashes of a life that wasn't hers, flashes of a gorgeous paradise, of days spent in the sun, of laughter, of tiny sparkling pinpoints of light that darted through the trees and spoke a language all their own …

She pulled back, gasping a little, and her eyes widened when she saw that he had pulled her past the threshold as he'd kissed her.

"Oh … Oh my … "

She really couldn't find the words. She had thought the Sea of Stars had been the most beautiful place she'd ever seen … but that was before.

_Everything_ glowed here. Halos of light formed around every tree, every rock, every mountain she could see in the distance. Sparkles shot off the water, glistening in every possible color. Strange birds that seemed to be made of gemstones and fire flew through the air. In the distance, Emma could see mermaids, splashing merrily in a lagoon, their brightly colored tails catching the light and shining like jewels. And far, far to the north, so far it was only just a speck, was a golden glow that felt like it was beckoning to her, even from this distance.

"It's real … " she breathed.

"Darling, you are glowing," Killian told her, and when she looked at him, her breath caught. She could see exactly what he meant, because he was shining like a beacon to her, too.

"This is … I'm just … " She could feel her lower lip trembling, and it was so stupid, because the last thing she should be doing was _crying_ right now.

"Emma? Are you all right?" he asked her, and his face was full of concern.

She shook her head, then nodded, unsure of how to respond. "I … I mean, it's _all_ real," she breathed. "I knew it was … it had to be … but … "

"We should rest," he told her. "There's a small village not too far from the mermaid's lagoon." He pointed. "They'll have room for us, and they might just be able to help us procure a ship for the rest of the journey." He nodded in the direction of that faint glow Emma had noticed before, the one that seemed to be calling to her. "That's the Hollow there. Do you understand now why I say taking a ship is quicker?"

She nodded, following him, her feet dragging as she tried to take in all of the sights at once. This was the only chance she'd ever have, after all. They'd go back to Storybrooke, and this place would just be a beautiful memory.

Killian was watching her, and when she realized how intent his gaze was, she actually felt herself blush a little. "I'm like some embarrassing gawking tourist," she muttered sheepishly.

"You're gorgeous," he told her, and she shook her head. "Emma, look at me." She raised her eyes to meet his, waiting expectantly for whatever it was that he was going to say. "You are, and someday, I hope somebody will make you believe that."

She frowned. That was a weird thing to say. "Somebody?" she asked him, that sense of dread creeping back up her spine again.

He rested his hand on her cheek, smiling gently, though she noted that his smile didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "Could be me," he said softly. "But I don't think there's enough time."

He started walking again before she could question him. And truth be told, she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to question him. Whatever he was hiding, she just knew it was devastating.

She didn't want to be devastated again right now. She just wanted to pretend, for a little while, that this was the way it was supposed to be. She followed him as he walked, her eyes casting furtive glances up at him every so often, waiting for his expression to give anything away, but it never did.

She could feel words sticking in her throat, words that desperately wanted to break free from her … but she couldn't let them out, not right now.

"Killian," she said, after they'd been walking for nearly half an hour, wending their way through a forest full of trees that shone like silver, with leaves that chimed in the breeze like crystals.

He turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder, though he never stopped walking. "Yes?" he said, and his tone betrayed nothing.

"Whatever it is you're thinking of doing … please don't." Her voice sounded very small and very unsure, and she sort of hated it, but she was feeling the beginning edges of panic creeping up on her.

He stopped so suddenly that she ended up running into his back. "What is it you think I'm planning, love?" he asked, without turning around.

"I don't know," she said, wishing he'd turn around and look at her, but he didn't. "I don't know, and I know I told you I'd trust you, and I … I do, but … Killian. We're going back to Storybrooke … together, right?"

He didn't answer.

_Oh God, why isn't he answering?_

"Killian?"

She could feel the world around her starting to spin a little. The colors she had thought were so beautiful just moments ago now seemed harsh and garish. The sound of the breeze chiming through the crystalline trees was no longer charming, but instead shrill and nauseating.

She started to back away from him. She had no idea what she was going to do or how she was going to do it, but she'd made a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. She'd let herself fall for him, and now … now he was going to leave her.

Just like everyone else.

"Emma, don't," and he reached for her, pulling her back, but she struggled to break free from his grasp.

"_You_ don't!" she cried out . "How … how … _how could you?_"

"Emma … there was no choice," he said, shaking his head.

"There is _always_ a choice!" she said. "Always! And you … you chose … "

"I chose _you_!" he shouted, and she could hear the anger, the desperation in his voice. "Doesn't that count, at all?"

"NO!" she shouted, and she didn't even care that tears were slipping down her cheeks now. She was so tired of losing everything, so tired of nothing working out. All she wanted was for one thing to go right. "Not if it means I'm going to lose you too! I _need_ you!"

The words were out before she could stop them, and she wished, immediately, that she could take them back.

He looked as though she'd slapped him. "What?"

She swiped her cheeks angrily with the back of her hand, laughing bitterly. "I. Need. You," she repeated through gritted teeth. "Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Emma," he said, and he took a step toward her.

"Don't," she said, putting a hand up to stop him, but he persisted, pulling her up against him.

"I have to," he breathed. "My Emma. What part don't _you_ understand? I didn't think I would ever, ever love anyone again … and then you … you bloody infuriating, aggravating, beautiful woman … "

She blinked, looking at him, unable to breathe.

"I love you, Emma Swan, does _that_ count for anything?"

"Oh," she gasped, unable to even form a response to that, because his mouth was on hers then, kissing her as though she were the last bit of oxygen he needed to breathe. And with that, she felt everything inside her just break. She gave up fighting, gave up wanting to hate him, and just let herself sink against, opening her mouth and her heart to him, completely, at last.

She had no idea what was going to happen, she had no idea what awaited them when they reached the Hollow … but she knew what she felt, and she knew that she couldn't just walk away from him and pretend like it didn't matter. Because it _mattered_.

And she wasn't just going to roll over and accept losing him. No way. Not this time.

This one was hers. And she was damn well going to keep him, no matter what it took.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: The Tower

**A/N: **This chapter comes with a _hefty_ warning. I've been dreading the second half of this chapter since I started this fic. It's The Tower. Sometimes called The Lightning-Struck Tower, it is considered by pretty much everyone to be the WORST card in the Major Arcana. It symbolizes the destruction of everything. This chapter fucking _hurts_. I bawled writing this. It starts out wayyyyyy up high … but by the end of it …

That being said. We still have _five_ chapters to go, so by no means should you consider this THE END or think that I'm planning to be evil. I'm really really not. But we HAVE to get through this part. Just, you know, have a large stack of tissues handy.

Also, as of this chapter, I've officially jumped the rating up to M. So you know. If you shouldn't be reading M-rated stuff ... don't.

**Chapter Sixteen**  
_**The Tower**_  
_"And time goes quicker between the two of us. Oh my love, don't forsake me. Take what the water gave me … "_

"Aren't we … " Emma gasped, "supposed to be catching a boat or something?" Her back was against the door now, her hands pinned above her head by one of Killian's forearms as he pressed against her.

"Sod the ship," Killian panted, his teeth nipping at the pulse in her throat, making her moan a little. "They can wait. You, however, cannot."

He dropped to his knees in front of her, using his teeth and his hand to undo the button on her jeans. She sucked in a breath sharply, anticipation flooding her senses now.

They'd come to the small, seaside village to rest and try and procure some sort of ship to take them the rest of the way to the Hollow.

However, when they'd gotten settled at the inn …

They were supposed to _rest_. But instead …

"I will have you," he'd breathed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her as though he meant to devour her. "On every surface in this room."

Emma had to say this for him … he made good on his word.

Several times.

The headboard was definitely cracked, and there were shards of glass from the vase they had knocked over littering the carpet of the small room. A few of the shards were in her hair, she was pretty sure. The bedsheets were strewn from one end of the room to the other.

It looked like a fucking hurricane had gone through here.

And she was learning things about him, things that you only learned about a person when you were _with _them. He was impatient, greedy, and insatiable … but also tender, thorough, and gentle. He liked to hold her close and bury his face in the crook of her neck in the afterglow, and he'd whisper things like "you're a bloody marvel" when he thought she was dozing off.

In all honesty, it was _he_ who was the marvel, and Emma so wanted to tell him, tell him everything, that she loved him, adored him, and couldn't imagine getting by without him now that she had him in her life. But the words would get stuck, so she'd just kiss him instead, kiss him as though he were oxygen and she needed him to breathe, hoping against hope that maybe he would _feel _what it was that she couldn't say.

He loved her. He had told her he loved her. Just the once, when they'd been outside, but it had been enough … it was burned into her mind, forever now. He loved her. How could she ever go back from that?

But there was still the matter of what _he_ wasn't saying … whatever it was he'd done, whatever choice he'd made. She was terrified of what it all might mean for the future, but every time she brought it up, he'd just kiss her senseless again.

"Let's not talk about anything right now, Emma," he'd whispered, his lips insistent against hers. "Let's just be happy."

Much to her surprise, she was okay with that for now.

For now. Eventually she'd figure out what he was hiding. Whether she wanted to or not.

She had several small scratches on her sides, her back, from where Killian had caught her with his hook accidentally, but she found she didn't mind. He had apologized profusely, then proceeded to kiss every single scrape … which lead them to their current situation.

Emma's hands were in his hair now, her eyes squeezed shut as he slid her jeans down her legs, his breath tickling her thighs. She wasn't sure how much longer "upright" was going to be a position she could stay in.

She gasped sharply when she felt his tongue moving over her most sensitive spot, through the fabric of her underwear, her fingers tightening in his hair. He growled, the sound sending shockwaves through her, and she cried out.

There was no way the other people in this inn weren't hearing them.

And yet Emma didn't care.

Never ever had she been so consumed by someone. Never ever would she be this consumed again. He was fire inside her, he was everything she'd ever been afraid to hope for. She had no idea what awaited them next, but as of right now, she didn't care. All she wanted was _this_.

"Killian," she gasped, arching against his mouth. She felt rather than heard him chuckle against her, and her body shuddered pleasurably. "Oh, _God_."

He tore her panties away from her then and Emma didn't even bother to protest the ruined fabric because his lips were wrapped around her most sensitive spot and God, his mouth was doing things to her that she'd thought were only _myths_. She could feel her knees starting to shake as he explored her with his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

His hook scraped down her leg lightly and she shivered, realizing then that the whimpering sound she was hearing was her own voice.

Her sounds only seemed to encourage him, and when she opened her eyes and looked down, she saw him looking up at her, so much heat and intensity in his gaze that it was almost enough to undo her then and there.

And there it was. One last flick of his tongue, and a devilish smirk from him, and she was tumbling over the edge of oblivion. And he was there to catch her as her knees finally gave out, pulling her down to the ground, covering her body with his own, his lips trailing back up to her neck. She cried out again, her body still yearning for his. "Please," she breathed.

He raised his head, his eyes locking with hers. "Please what?" he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

She arched against him, her hand sliding down his abdomen to grasp him. "I … need … you. Please, Killian, please, please, please … " She stroked him gently, guiding him to her now.

He gave a gasp of his own, but maintained that damned smirk of his. "There's a good girl," he replied, nipping at her lower lip.

And then he was _there _and a sound between a moan and a scream escaped her throat. It was perfect, he was perfect, nothing would ever feel like this, not ever again. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper, wanting him as close to her as it was possible to be.

"Emma," he groaned, his forehead pressed against hers. His eyes fell closed then, and this was the moment Emma liked best. When he was so overcome that he just had to close his eyes, let it wash over him. She could stare at him forever like this, his expression one of pure bliss, and it was because of her, for her.

She leaned in, pressing her lips just barely against his, the merest touch, but she felt him start to tremble. Her arms went around him, her hands roaming over his back, down his spine. She sighed against his lips, a small smile on her lips. "Now," she breathed. "Now, Killian, come with me, now."

He let out a soft cry of his own, slanting his mouth over hers insistently, clinging to her like a lifeline. She felt her own release hit her, just as his hand tightened in her hair and he moaned against her lips.

She let her fingers thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, her body shaking. She felt boneless, weightless, completely and perfectly content for this one moment. Her eyes found his again, and she smiled softly.

"Emma," he said softly, and there was that sort of nervous expression he sometimes wore around her, the one that confused her, because what did he have to be nervous about?

"Shh," she said, shaking her head and pressing her lips to his. "Whatever it is, it'll keep."

He shook his head. "It won't," he said, his brow furrowed. She ran her fingers lightly over the creases on his forehead, frowning at his serious expression. "There's a ship waiting to take us north, and once we're on it, it'll be a day, maybe two, until we reach the Hollow."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" she asked. "One step closer to Storybrooke, if what you said about the fairies was true."

"Aye, lass, it's true," he said, but his eyes were sad.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's going on?" Emma asked him. "Maybe if you told me, I could help you."

He shook his head. "There's nothing you could do, love," he said.

She moved to sit up then, scooting herself away from him, pressing herself back against the wall. "What are you _saying_?" she asked. "Killian, what's going to happen when we get to the Hollow?"

"They're going to send you home," he said, "like I've said before."

She frowned. "Just … me." Her eyes met his and she could see the answer there. "Tell me."

Killian blew out a heavy breath. "Gold opened this portal as a trap … not for me, for you," he said.

"Why?" Emma asked, confused. "Why would he … ?"

"To force me to choose."

_I chose you._

The words came rushing back to her then, and suddenly they made sense.

"No … Killian … " She shook her head. "You should have _stayed_."

"And left you stuck here forever?" he asked, giving her a droll look. "Not bleeding likely."

"I would've been all right … " she said slowly.

"Emma, you have a son. A family. People who love you. People who need you. I've got nothing. And Neverland is my home."

"Why is it you can't come with me?" she asked. "Was it some deal you made with Gold? Because we can deal with him … we can … "

Killian was kissing her again, and she succumbed to it, though she really wanted to scream.

"The fairies only have enough dust to send one person back. It's not a portal they open, it's a spell. And it requires … well, all of the pixie dust in the Hollow." He sighed heavily. "It's a huge favor to ask. And they don't take kindly to outsiders. You never would have gotten close."

"But you can?"

"Aye," he said, and he smiled a little wryly. "I … know someone. She'll help us get an audience with Titania, their queen."

"Seriously? You're friends with a pixie?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. He gave her a pointed look, and her mouth dropped open. "You … you mean … Oh. She's real, too."

"Very much so," Killian said with a chuckle. "And she won't let you forget it, either."

"Wow. I just … wow." Emma shook her head, trying to process all the new information. But she kept coming back to one thing. "Okay, so they have to use all their pixie dust or whatever to send me home … don't they have like an unending supply or something?"

He shook his head, his eyes back to being sad. "That's why it's such a huge favor, love. It'll take every bit of it. And it takes … time to replenish."

Emma felt her heart sinking with every word he said. "How much time?" she asked, terrified of the answer.

"In your world? Somewhere around fifty years."

That did it. Her lower lip started trembling and her eyes filled with tears. She laughed bitterly and the tears spilled down her cheeks. "Are you fucking kidding me? This is some sort of joke, right? _ Fifty years_?" She looked at him, shaking her head. "What am I supposed to do, just … just _accept _that? Just leave you here?" Her voice grew very small then. "What am I supposed to do without you?"

"You _live_, Emma. You live, and you raise your son and you move on. You forget about me."

She slapped him.

He didn't even flinch, but for the way his jaw tightened. His eyes never left her face. "I'm sure I deserve worse than that."

"You're damn right you do," Emma spat. "_Forget _about you? Like it's just so easy." She was crying openly now, she couldn't seem to stop. "How can I just forget about you when I … when I … "

"When you _what_, Emma?" he asked, his hand wrapping around her wrist then.

"I was ready to give you _everything_," she said, her voice barely a whisper now.

"Emma … it's not … you _will _forget about me," he said.

"Shut up!" she said. "I won't."

He closed his eyes, and she heard his breathing hitch. "You will."

"What aren't you telling me?" she demanded then, she could sense that he was holding something back.

"I didn't … I didn't want you to have to ever know … but I can't lie to you, either." He exhaled heavily. "You're a mainlander, Emma, and that means … the pixie dust … it will erase your memories of Neverland and anyone and everyone associated with it."

She froze then, just gaping at him. "You … I … what the _fuck_." She was on her feet then, her tears turning hot due to her anger.

"It would have been kinder not to tell you," he said, and she could see the conflict in his eyes. "I just don't want to lie to you, not any more, not now, Emma. You deserve to know everything … you won't remember it, but _I_ will."

"So I won't remember _any_ of this? I won't remember you _at all_? None of it? None of this? How is that okay?"

"It's _not_," he said, getting to his feet then. "Emma, it's not okay, nothing about this is right, and that bloody bastard _knew_ all of this when he sent you here. Don't you understand? This is my punishment. Because I'll remember everything."

"And I'll remember nothing." She shook her head again. Nothing. None of it. Not him, not Neverland, not anything. "No. No … I don't accept that. This is … it's a nightmare."

"I wish that it was … Emma, it's better this way."

"_How_? How is this _better_, Killian?"

"You deserve better. This is the one bloody thing I could do right in my life," he said, running his hand through his hair. "You aren't going to hurt, Emma. You'll be fine. You'll be better than fine."

She was barely registering what he was saying. Every memory she had of him — from the first moment she'd seen him until right now — was racing through her mind. Every memory was precious to her. And they were going to be stolen from her.

"Isn't there any other way?"

"Don't you think I'd do it?" he asked her.

"I don't want to do _this_," she said, and she was crying again. "I don't want to forget you. I'm … _better_ because of you. Am I just going to go back to the way I was before? I can't … I can't be that person again, I can't, not after this."

He had his hand and his hook on her shoulders now, and he turned her to face him. "But you will. Emma, you're a tough lass. You'll get through this, you won't even remember you _had _to get through this."

"And that's just supposed to make it okay," she said. She shook her head again, turning away from him. She didn't know what else to say at this point. What did it matter anyway? She wasn't even going to remember being here.

But he would remember. God, how unfair was this?

She closed her eyes, felt his arms go around her. She didn't push him away, she didn't want to push him away, she wanted to keep him with her, always. But she couldn't. Nothing ever worked out the way it was supposed to for her.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but she just couldn't make the words come. It didn't matter anyway. None of it mattered.

She was so _stupid_. How could she have thought, for even a second, that he was … that they were … Her life wasn't a fairy tale. And this right here pretty much proved it.

She looked up at his face, and what she saw there broke her heart. She was sure her own expression mirrored it. It was pain.

"Come on, lass," he said, his voice quiet, broken. "We've a boat to catch."


	18. Chapter Seventeen: The Star

**A/N: **Well, this will DEFINITELY make up for the last chapter (I hope, anyway lol). This is the Star. You know what the Star symbolizes? Love. Hope. Joy. Great love being given and received. This is a BEAUTIFUL card and this chapter is … full of good things. Enjoy it. We're not finished yet, but hopefully you will see now that I do not have evil intentions. Also, this chapter is just enormous. It's over 5,000 words long. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED.

**Chapter Seventeen**  
_**The Star**_  
_"You are the best thing that's ever been mine … "_

Emma spent most of the trip north in the hold of the ship. It was a small enough vessel — a _skiff_, Killian had called it, and it had come with a small crew of its own, so there was no need for her to help sail it. Not that she would have been any help any way. He had been so excited about teaching her the ropes of sailing. But what was the point now? And there was no reason for her to be on deck, taking in her surroundings.

It wasn't like she'd remember them any way.

It was unfathomable to her to think that this, all of it, was going to be erased from her mind. She'd have no memory of her first glimpse of Neverland, no memory of the magic she had seen and felt and actually _believed _here.

No memory of Killian's eyes or his smile, or the way he touched her. No way to recall that infuriating smirk or the way he could turn the most innocent phrase into something filthy.

She wouldn't remember lifting that pile of rubble and getting her first glimpse of him, the way her heart had done a funny little flip the moment his ocean blue eyes had locked with hers.

No memory of all those mornings back in Storybrooke, where they had sat and talked for hours before the sun came up, before her family woke for the day.

No memory of loving him, no memory of their bodies intertwined, fitting perfectly together as though they _belonged _like that.

Worst of all … she wouldn't remember that she'd been in love.

She wanted to cry again, but all she felt was numb. Every once in awhile, she'd hear him call her name from up on deck, but she never answered.

None of this _mattered_, and it was shattering her. She'd thought that this … this thing she'd embarked on, oh so long ago with Killian was the most important thing she'd done with her life since having Henry.

But it was nothing. It would be nothing. Not even a page in her history. Not even a dream.

She hugged her arms around her knees, drawing them up to her chest. She just sat there, ignoring everything around her, like a sad and broken little girl who had lost everything that ever mattered to her.

Again.

She must've slept at some point, because she woke up on the floor, her back pressed against the wall and a terrible crick in her neck. She hoped that they were close to the Hollow now. She couldn't go on like this.

Once she was home, she supposed she'd be better. But she didn't want to be better. She wanted to be with him.

With a sigh, she stood up, stretching out her back. She made her way up to the deck, blinking a bit against the sunlight and the cool salt breeze that greeted her and tangled its fingers through her blonde hair.

"Emma!"

She closed her eyes, wishing she could block out his voice, hating the way it affected her, the way it stirred her senses and awakened her very soul.

Her mouth was a thin line as he approached, one of the crew members taking over the steering of the ship for now.

"You know there's a _cabin _onboard this ship, right?" he asked her, cocking an eyebrow. Emma wondered how bad she looked.

"I'm fine," she said coolly. "What did you want?"

He blew out an exasperated breath. "Well, for one, the attitude's got to go, love."

Her brow furrowed. She knew she was being a bitch right now, but she just didn't see how she could possibly pretend like things were okay. "What do you want from me, Killian?" she snapped. "I'm barely able to make myself stand up, let alone … "

"Come here," he said, and his tone brooked no room for argument, but she did any way.

"Why?"

"Because I bloody well asked you to!" he shouted. "Is that not reason enough?"

Sighing heavily, she walked over to him, a little unsteady on her feet as the small boat rocked beneath her. "What?" she said.

He looped his hook around her wrist and pulled her in close, and for a moment, Emma thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he lead her toward the front of the ship — was it called the bow? She couldn't remember — and pointed.

Despite everything, Emma couldn't help but gasp when she saw the small island that loomed in front of them now, growing ever nearer. It, like everything else in Neverland, seemed to glow, but instead of a rainbow of colors … it was golden. Bright and shining like a beacon, and it felt … it felt like it was calling to her.

"What is that place?" she asked, turning her head just enough to look at him. He was behind her now, and she could feel him surrounding her.

"The Hollow," he said, and his breath was tickling her ear. "Home of the fairies."

"So … we've made it," she said glumly.

"Few more hours til we make land," he told her, his arms going about her waist then.

Emma stiffened a little at first, but then sighed, letting herself rest against him. She was tired of fighting with herself about all the things that had gone wrong. She just wanted … she just wanted to exist right now. With him. "That's not very long." She felt his lips in her hair, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to start crying again. "I just can't imagine going back to a world where you don't exist."

"You've got it easy, love," he said. "You're not the one with the burden of the memories."

She frowned as the reality of that sunk it. She'd been just _terrible _to him ever since she'd learned what was going to happen, thinking that none of it mattered any more.

But it _did _matter.

Because _he _was going to remember all of it.

Suddenly she was ashamed. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I'm so sorry."

"Just … do me one favor?" he said.

"Anything," she said, and she truly meant it. It was the least she could do, after all.

Instead of speaking, he turned her around then, his eyes roaming her face as though he meant to memorize it. He let his hand rest on her cheek, his thumb brushing away an errant teardrop that had spilled onto her cheek.

"So what's the favor?" she asked him in a whisper.

"Oh, that. Well, I haven't decided yet," he said with that familiar smirk. "It's the last favor I'm going to get from you, I want to make sure it's a good one."

She laughed a little, in spite of herself, rolling her eyes. "Of course," she said, trying her best to ignore the stabbing pain she felt in her heart right now.

He leaned in then, and she was on her tiptoes, her fingers in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

No sooner had their lips touched, when out of the corner of her eye, Emma noticed a tiny dot of light, growing closer and closer. She pulled back a little then, frowning. "What the hell is that?"

"What the hell is what?" Killian said, obviously annoyed at the interruption. "Get back here."

"No, there's something coming."

"Well, I can tell you what's _not _coming," he said dryly.

She smacked his shoulder. "Oh my God, shut _up_," she said, trying not to laugh. "Seriously, what _is _that?" She pointed, and Killian's gaze followed.

"It's a bloody nuisance is what it is!" he said, shouting a bit in exasperation.

Emma blinked. "Why are you yelling at the … little … glowing thing?"

"Oh, because I'm gonna get my yelling in before she does."

"She?"

Suddenly the little light was zooming in and around Emma's head. She could hear a very faint sort of chiming sound then, and Killian just sighed. "Yes, yes, get it out of your system." More chiming. He rolled his eyes then. "I'm quite certain you can't make that assumption after two seconds, love." He looked back to Emma then. "She doesn't like you."

"Huh?" Emma was completely confused at this point … and a little offended.

"Don't worry, she never likes anyone on first meeting. Isn't that right, Tink?"

Emma's eyes widened as the small little light started to grow bigger, taking on a more human form as it did. She blinked, shielding her eyes a bit from the glow, which finally faded out to reveal a gorgeous, petite young woman, with short platinum blonde hair, a pert, upturned nose that was sprinkled with freckles, and green eyes that seemed to be lit from within. She was dressed all in green, and on closer inspection, Emma saw that her clothing seemed to be made of … leaves?

Emma opened her mouth to say something, but didn't get the chance. "First of all, I didn't say I didn't like you, he's just being an ass. _Shocking_, I know." Tinkerbell rolled her eyes and Emma bit back a grin. "And as for _you_… " She turned to Killian then.

"All right, let's have it, then," he said with a heavy sigh, giving Emma a sidelong, apologetic look.

Instead of yelling, though, Tinkerbell just stared at him for a long, long time, her face a mask of questions that Emma didn't understand. Killian stood there, his own face stoic, as though he understood _exactly _what was going on. He looked for all the world like a man awaiting judgement.

After several seemingly interminable minutes, Tinkerbell's face split into a wide grin and she threw her arms around him. "You're back you're back you're back you're back!"

Emma saw the surprise on Killian's face for a split second before he returned Tink's hug, laughing a bit. "Aye, I'm back." It wasn't lost on Emma, the sadness in his tone then, though she really didn't understand what was going on.

Just as quickly as she'd hugged him, Tink gave him a shove away then, but she was smiling brightly. "It's good to see you, _Peter_."

"And you, you bloody annoying pixie." Tink made a face at him.

Emma felt a little like she was intruding, so she started to back away. She could go back to the hold for now, give them a chance to catch up. She felt a warm hand on her wrist then, stopping her.

"Wait wait wait wait wait! Where are you going?" Tink demanded. "We haven't even had a chance to talk yet!" She pouted a little.

"I just didn't want … to intrude," Emma said, her eyes glancing back at Killian then.

"Intrude on _what_?" Tink asked, eyebrow cocked, scrutinizing Emma's face closely. Man, she was another one of those personal space invaders. Was that a Neverland thing or what? Tink burst out laughing then, and the sound was like million tiny bells. "Oh, Emma, you silly!" she giggled. "You can stop thinking _those _thoughts right now!"

"I wasn't thinking … " Emma started to protest.

"You were. You can't lie to a pixie," Tink said. "But just believe me when I say … _ew_." She glanced back at Killian, making a face of disgust.

"Oy, I'm standing right here," Killian said, offended.

Tink gave him a sweet smile. "Do you mind? Emma and I are talking. Go swab a deck or something," she said, waving her hand dismissively, and Emma laughed a little.

Killian threw up his arms and rolled his eyes. "Why do I even bloody bother?"

"Ignore him," Tink said, turning back to Emma. Emma glanced back at Killian and he winked at her. "Ugh, are you still here?" Tink said, annoyed. "Go! Shoo!" Much to Emma's surprise, he actually did.

"Wow, how did you do that?" Emma laughed. "He never listens to me."

"Years and years of blackmail," Tink said with a nod. "He's just afraid I'm going to tell all sorts of stories about him."

She let her voice carry then and Killian turned around and gave her a warning look. "Tinkerbell," he said.

"Peter," she said, mocking his serious tone before turning back to Emma. She sighed and rolled her eyes, then took Emma's hand and led her over toward the railing of the ship. "You're a little freaked out right now," Tink said, and it wasn't a question.

"I've got a lot on my mind," Emma said with a shrug.

"He told you about the pixie dust," she said. "And you're … unhappy."

"Of course I am!" Emma said, a little offended that the fairy even had to ask.

"Do you love him, Emma?"

"What?" Emma asked, shifting uncomfortably under Tinkerbell's close scrutiny. "I mean … I … "

"Yes or no, Emma. Do you love him?"

"Yes," she breathed.

"Does _he _know that?"

Emma frowned, tugging nervously at the sleeve of her sweater.

"Didn't think so. You might think about telling him," Tink said. "True love is a pretty powerful source of magic."

Emma's frowned deepened. "True love is for fairy tales," she said. "Besides, didn't he already have that?"

"What, you mean Milah?" Tink asked, making a face. "I have no idea what happened with that woman … I mean I know what _happened_, but I … " She sighed heavily. "Look, the last time I saw Peter was right after Milah died, right after he lost his hand. He came back here, but he was _not_ the boy who lived here so very long ago. There was nothing in him that resembled that boy any more. He did … terrible things. He was dark, and twisted, and cruel. There's a reason the stories in your land depict him the way they do. Captain Hook _is _a monster, Emma, don't ever doubt that."

"And yet, you've stayed a loyal friend to him?" Emma asked.

"I've stayed loyal to _Peter_. Or, Killian, as he calls himself now. As you call him." Tink smiled softly. "You see, I was the one who found him when he first showed up here. He was so young. So lost, so alone, so afraid. But he was _such _a bright light. That's how I found him in the first place, because he was just … shining like a beacon. All golden and warm." She shook her head. "When he came back after … after Milah … that light was gone. All that surrounded him was dark and cold."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Emma asked, fascinated by the tale, but unsure of why it mattered.

"The other fairies … they still fear him, after last time. And rightly so." Tink looked down, biting her lip. "He decimated the Hollow when they told him that we couldn't help him with his plot for revenge. Revenge is … not what we do … but he was so far gone, he didn't care." She looked back up at Emma, taking a deep breath. "We are the ones who sent him back to … do you call it the Enchanted Forest? Anyway … we sent him away from Neverland. He would have _destroyed_ Neverland if we hadn't."

"I still don't understand … " Emma said.

"I've been trying to get away, to find you two, since I first sensed his presence back in Neverland. I had to see, for myself … " Tink smiled then. "His light is back. He's glowing again." She took Emma's hand. "And that's because of you." She gave Emma's hand a squeeze. "I want you to do something for me, okay? _Trust me._ I know … I know all about you, Emma Swan, and how you have issues with that. But his light … it's so much brighter now than it ever has been. Him losing it again would be … " She shook her head. "I'm not going to let that happen."

"So … you have something in mind?" Emma asked, for the first time feeling hopeful.

"I do," Tink said, nodding. "So will you trust me, Emma? Will you help me save him?"

"I'd do anything," Emma said earnestly. She looked at Tink imploringly then. "Will we … be together, then?"

Tink smiled that bright smile of hers again. "If this works, Emma my love, you will be together forever."

Emma felt her breathing hitch, her eyes welling with tears. "Oh," she said, smiling as she started to cry.

"But it's going to be hard," Tink warned. "It's not just going to happen like _that_." She snapped her fingers. "Which is why I said … you gotta trust me. No matter what happens from this point on."

"I trust you," Emma said, and she found that she really did. "If he trusts you, I trust you. If you can … help us … I trust you."

Tink smiled, then looked up. "Oh, we're here." She cast a glance back at Emma. "Look, you can't meet with Queen Titania tonight — see, it's our Winter Solstice right now, and tonight's the festival. You came at a really good time, it's a lot of fun! But you can't go to the festival looking like … that."

Emma looked down at her sweater and jeans. Both had seen better days. "I suppose not," she said, frowning.

"Don't worry. We'll get you taken care of."

"How?" Emma asked. "I mean … I'm still trying to figure out how it is you're not still tiny."

Tink laughed. "We pixies only take our small forms when we need to do things and remain out of sight. Or when we're flying. Mostly, though, we prefer to be like you." She tugged on Emma's hand then. "Come on, I know just the place for you." Emma looked over her shoulder, looking for Killian. "Don't worry about him," Tink said. "You'll see him later. And when you do, do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Emma asked, cocking her head a bit.

"Tell him that you're in love with him."

xOx

Killian hadn't seen Emma since Tink had shooed him away on the ship. That had been hours ago, and he was starting to feel a little uneasy. What was Tinkerbell telling her? Nothing that wasn't true, he was sure, but … he really hadn't wanted her to find out about all his past crimes like that.

He should have told her himself. Long ago.

When they had docked at the Hollow, he had disembarked the ship with a feeling of disquiet. He would not be welcome here.

Tinkerbell appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, at his elbow as he wandered aimlessly down the path through the woods that lead to the center of the Hollow. "Miss me?" she said with a teasing grin.

"Oh, were you gone? I didn't even notice," he retorted dryly. "What have you done with Emma?"

"I strung her up in one of the trees, of course," Tink said with a delicate shrug, mischief in her leaf-green eyes.

"Tinkerbell, if you've hurt her … "

"Whoa," Tink said, holding up her hands. "It's nice to see that you care about her so much, but you might want to curb those violent outbursts of yours around here. Also, ouch. Like I would hurt her. I like her, Peter. She's way too good for you, though."

Killian's shoulders sagged a little. "Do you honestly think I don't know that?" he said quietly.

He was so keyed up right now. Being back here had set his nerves to fraying. Considering what he'd done last time, it was a wonder they didn't have a lynch mob waiting for him.

"I'm sorry, Tink," he said, after several long moments. "Everything's a mess, and I'm sure it's because I deserve it. But she doesn't … I'm only sorry I dragged her into the middle of all of this."

Tink didn't even appear to be paying attention to a word he was saying. Typical. Blasted pixie.

"You can't go to the festival wearing that," she said then, apropros of nothing, tapping her finger against her chin. "I mean, all black? Come on, that is not the statement you need to be making here."

"What bloody festival are you chirping on about?" he asked, utterly confused.

Tink gasped at him. "You've been away too long," she said, shaking her head. "It's the Winter Solstice, lackwit."

His eyes widened a bit. "That's tonight?" he asked.

"Indeed," Tink said with a grin. "Lucky for you, I have something you can wear. _And _I have a present for you! I know how you like presents." She grabbed his hand and started pulling him off in one direction.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked, following, admittedly curious about this "present".

"Home!" she laughed.

It had been a long time since Killian had been to the Hollow, even longer since he'd been there as a _welcomed _guest. Still, Tinkerbell's tiny little forest cottage had not changed a bit since the last time he'd seen it. All the pixies lived in similar dwellings when they were in human form. Other times, they were the typical "sleep in the flowers" cliche that Emma's world was so fond of.

"Wait here!" Tink called, darting down the small hallway toward the back of the place. Killian did as he was bid, looking around at the place that had once been almost a home to him, so many years ago. It was still as disorganized at cluttered as ever … Tink was always trying to put together new things or invent something or other, so bits and pieces of her creations just littered every available surface of the room.

He supposed it probably would be again, after … after Emma was gone. He blew out a heavy breath. It was really going to happen. She was going to leave him.

"Bloody buggering fuck," he muttered, running his hand over his forehead.

"Language!" Tink snapped, and Killian looked up as she reentered the room. She tossed something at him, and he frowned when he caught it.

"What is this?" he asked, turning over the large walnut shell in his hand.

"Open it!" Tink said excitedly.

He cracked the lid and blinked at the blinding light that emanated from within now. He picked up the source of the light … it was so small, but as soon as it was in his palm …

"Tinkerbell," he said, looking up at her. "How the bleeding hell did you get hold of the Star of Neverland? It's not even supposed to be _real_. I looked for it for decades."

Tink just smiled. "Please, like you're the only one who can steal things?" She moved over to her table and rummaged around a bit among the bits and bobbles scattered there. "A-ha!" she said, moving back over to him. "Gimme," she said, taking the tiny, glowing star from his palm. She placed the star on the small object she had taken from the table, which Killian now saw was a small silver band, fashioned in the shape of intertwining vines.

When she was finished, she held out the ring to him. "Say 'very pretty, Tink, you do excellent work'," she told him.

"Tinkerbell," he said, his voice strained with emotion.

"All you have to do is believe again, Peter," Tink said. "Can you do that?"

"I … " He frowned. It had been so long since he'd had anything _good_ worth hoping for in his life.

Tink shook her head, annoyed now. "Well? Is she your true love or isn't she?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. Of that much, he was certain.

"Then tonight, you dance with her. When she understands what that means … you give her this. And then tomorrow … "

"You send her home," he said, his heart in his throat.

Tink nodded. "Right, we send her home. And we wait. And when the time is right … when it all comes back … "

Killian hugged Tink tightly then. "You really think it'll work?" he asked her.

"Have faith," she said, returning the hug. "And trust. And … " She flicked her finger at the ring then, a tiny amount of gold flecks shooting off the tip of her finger. "A little bit of pixie dust."

"Why would you … after everything I did … " Killian said, frowning.

"Because I know you," she said, taking his face in her hands and looking at him seriously. "I know your heart. And you are _not_ that monster who came through the portal last time. You've found yourself again, and _she _is the reason for that. And it isn't just about you, either. She's already lost so much. She needs you."

"You really believe that?" Killian asked. "She's never even said … "

Tink sighed. "You men and your egos!" she said. "She's _scared _of what it means to love someone. That doesn't mean she doesn't feel it. Where's the faith, huh?"

He backed up, putting up his hands in surrender. "All right, blast you, you win."

"Now go change! I left you some clothes in the back. We've a festival to get to."

xOx

Emma felt slightly ridiculous, and incredibly nervous as she waited for Tinkerbell to arrive to lead her to wherever this festival was.

The gown the fairies had dressed her in was some sort of gossamer silk, a soft silvery-blue color that caught the light and sparkled when she moved. It was off-the-shoulder, and the neckline was edged with soft white feathers. "Because your name's Swan, it seemed appropriate, you see," the darker haired fairy, who called herself Iona, had said. The material hugged her curves, flowing down into a full skirt that brushed the ground until she'd put on the pair of silver slippers that the fairies had handed her.

After they'd dressed her, they'd done up her hair, a pile of golden curls atop her head, with a few falling loose around her face. "Now you are ready for the festival," they had announced.

"I guess," Emma had said, completely out of her element. This was just … _too _unreal, it was hard to wrap her head around it.

And now she was waiting, just outside the little cottage, looking down the path for some sign of Tinkerbell, coming back for her.

"Pardon me, I'm looking for … " Emma turned at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. "… Emma," he finished, his eyes going wide as he looked at her. "Emma?"

She wanted to laugh a little at his dumbstruck expression, but she was sure that hers mirrored it. He wasn't wearing all black any more. He was wearing what Emma would've classified as "Fancy Pirate". There was a long leather duster, leather pants (_oh, God_), and a bright green brocade vest that somehow made his eyes look even bluer. He looked … incredible.

She managed to smile then. "You look amazing," she said, wondering at the nervousness in her voice.

"Bloody hell, Emma," he breathed, stepping in closer to her. He didn't touch her, though he raised his hand as though he meant to, before dropping it back to his side.

"Is it that bad?" she asked, looking down at the dress and making a face.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said quietly.

"I highly doubt that," Emma said, though her heart was fluttering wildly now. "You come from _Neverland_, and this place is … "

"Nothing compared to you." And then he was kissing her, and Emma was certain she never wanted it to end. "I've thought of the favor I want from you," he said, after they managed to pull away from each other.

"Oh?" Emma asked, raising a brow as she remembered their earlier conversation on the boat. "Should I be afraid?"

He smiled at her, letting his fingertips trace over the exposed line of her shoulder now. "I only want to dance with you."

Her brow furrowed. That seemed like such an odd thing to request as a final favor from someone. "I'm not a very good dancer," she admitted, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow when he offered her his arm.

"Doesn't matter. I can show you how it goes," he said as they began walking down the path.

"That's really all you want?" she asked him, bemused. "A dance?"

"Well, it's not just any dance," he said, turning his head to look at her. "It's quite a specific one."

"Continue," she said, her expression expectant.

"Well … it will mean that we're married," he said.

Emma stopped walking. "What?" she asked. "How does that even work?"

"It's a tradition here, in Neverland. The Winter Solstice is … it's about the death of the sun, but it's also the rebirth of it. It's about the commitment of starting something new. And people come here, from all over Neverland, on this night, for this very purpose."

"To get married," Emma said. "So … what you're really saying here is that the final favor you want from me is … "

"To marry you, yes," he said, nodding.

"But … why?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for any kind of answer. "Why would you want that? Knowing that when I leave here, I won't remember … "

"Because _I _will," he said adamantly, his eyes pleading with her. "And just knowing that given the choice, you would be with me, if you could … "

"Of course I would," Emma said softly. "You know I don't want to leave you, and I don't want to forget … "

Her mind was racing, she was replaying every moment she'd spent with him up to this point, every heartbeat, every breath, all of it. Tinkerbell's voice was in her head then, clear as a bell.

_True love is a pretty powerful source of magic …_

All that talk about trusting Tinkerbell, it was all ringing in Emma's head.

_Trust me, no matter what happens from this point on … _

And the crazy thing was, Emma _did_ trust her. Inexplicably, she trusted Tinkerbell. And more importantly, _most_ importantly … she trusted Killian. With everything she had. She looked up then, her eyes wide and searching as they met his. It was all starting to make sense. This _was_ the fairy tale. This was _it_.

"Okay," she said then, as her mind halted at her realization. She took his face in her hands, turning him to look at her. She kissed him, deeply, longingly. "This isn't the end. I won't let it be."

"What are you saying, Emma?" he breathed against her lips, his arms going around her.

"I'm saying … I love you," she said, and she meant it more than she'd meant anything.

She had expected him to make a smartass comment, but instead, his arms tightened around her. "Emma," he said, and she could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest. It hit her then, just how much it all actually meant to him.

"It's not over," she said, shaking her head. "It will never _be _over." She kissed him again as tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Gods, I love you," he breathed raggedly then, kissing the tip of her nose.

She pulled back, smiling at him. "Come on," she said, reaching for his hand. "Tink's probably wondering what happened to us."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he pulled back on her hand to keep her from walking just yet. "You never answered my question, lass," he said.

"And what question was that?" she asked teasingly.

"Do you concede to dance with me tonight?"

"You mean, will I marry you?" Emma asked, her grin slowly widening.

It was insane that this conversation was even happening … but everything in her life had been insane up til now. Why stop here? Besides, she knew, without a doubt, that this was what she wanted. She knew he would _never_ give up on finding her again. Somehow, someway, they'd be together.

She leaned in and kissed him again. "Hell yes I will," she whispered. "Let's go."


	19. Chapter Eighteen: The Moon

**A/N: **The Moon symbolizes an unforeseen turn of events, so there's a bit more angst heading your way. I wanted to say thank you, again, to everyone for reading and reviewing and following and just ... I'm seriously overwhelmed at how well-received this fic has been, and I'm so glad you've all stuck with me throughout this journey. We only have three chapters to go, and I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them.

**Chapter Eighteen**  
_**The Moon**_  
_"Might've known you'd be my savior, when I'd fallen out of favor … "_

She had a ring on her finger, and snowflakes melting in her hair.

It was as though the gentle snowfall had waited til just the perfect moment, the flakes falling gracefully from the sky, giving everything an extra air of magic. Emma had never believed so much in magic or miracles before, but she was believing now.

Tink bounced around them excitedly when Killian slipped the ring onto her finger. Emma looked at it, not really registering any of it as being real, even though she knew that it was. "What kind of stone is this?" she had asked, holding her hand up in the light of one of the lanterns that lit the center of the Hollow. The stone seemed to glow from within, a faint bluish light to it that sort of reminded her of Killian's eyes …

"It's a star," Tink said, unable to contain herself.

Killian shot her a look. "Do you mind? What are you even _doing _here?"

Tink pouted at that. "You wouldn't even _have _that if it weren't for me."

"A star?" Emma asked, cutting off their argument and trying not to laugh. They bickered like siblings, or so Emma assumed. Not having ever had a sibling of her own.

"Not just any star," Killian said. "The Star of Neverland."

"That sounds … magical," Emma said without a hint of irony.

"Aye, it is," he said.

She had a ring on her finger, and snowflakes melting in her hair.

She kept stepping on Killian's feet as he tried to lead her through this dance, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"You're really not living up to being the graceful swan your name would suggest," he teased her, raising his voice to be heard over the sound of the music. His eyes were sparkling with a light that was unlike anything she'd ever seen.

"Oh, shut up," she told him, laughing as she stumbled, yet again, falling against him with an "oof".

"Your clumsiness does have some unexpected benefits, I will say that for it," he said with a smirk. "Why don't you just _stand _on my feet if you're going to keep stepping on them, love?"

"No!" she protested. "I can do this, dammit."

"All right then," he said, kissing her, and then placing her hands back in the correct positions for this waltz. "It's our turn. Last chance to change your mind." He was joking, but she saw the uncertainty that flickered behind those blue eyes of his.

Emma felt bolstered by that kiss, and she shook her head. "Not getting rid of me that easily," she told him, taking his hand and placing her other hand on his shoulder like he'd showed her. She felt the slight weight of his hook against her back. Her eyes met his and she smiled.

She didn't stumble at all this time, and it was over before there was even time to process it. She hadn't known what to expect, but it hadn't been … that. It was as Killian had said. A dance, and nothing more. No words spoken, no vows exchanged, but somehow, being here, in this place, at this time, with his arms around her, and his laughter in her ears, it felt more real to her than anything ever had.

"Gotta say, I do love the simplicity of this place," she said, laughing a little. She looked up at him. "Though I will admit … never thought I'd get married at all. Least of all to Captain Hook-slash-Peter Pan. You should probably pinch me."

He smirked at that. "Oh, gladly, love," he said, leaning in to kiss her, and it was as though they were the only two people that existed. "Now, let's find that blasted pixie and say our goodbyes," he breathed against her lips. "I'm just _aching _to get you out of this dress."

Emma gave a little shiver at the dark promise in his words, smirking a bit. "Oh, I just bet you are," she teased.

"Oy, I've never consummated a marriage before," he said, then paused. "Well, not my _own_, anyway," he added with a wicked grin.

Emma smacked his shoulder lightly. "Well, we certainly wouldn't want to deny you that pleasure," she said, placing a little extra emphasis on the last word as she pressed against him.

No one else existed right now.

She had a ring on her finger, and snowflakes melting in her hair.

"All right, you little minx," he breathed with a crooked grin. "Sod the pixie, we're going now." His hand slid down to take hers and they turned to head back toward the cottage Tink had arranged for them to use this night.

No sooner had they turned though, then they were met with Tink. "Well, speak of the devil," Killian said drolly. "We were just leaving, love."

Tink's green eyes were bright, frantic. "You can't," she said, and there was an air of panic in her voice.

"What do you mean?" Emma asked, her hand tightening in Killian's.

"Titania is coming," Tink said. "She's still angry with you, Peter."

Emma felt a block of ice in her stomach, remembering what Tinkerbell had told her, back aboard the ship.

She looked at Killian. His jaw was tensing in that way it did when he was upset, worried. "Get Emma out of here," he told Tink.

"No!" Emma shouted. "I'm _not _leaving you."

"Emma, you _have_ to," he told her, his voice harsh. "You have to go with Tinkerbell, now. She can send you home, but if you stay, they won't let her. You have to go _now_, before they get here."

"But what about you?" Emma asked. Her heart was pounding and she could taste bile in the back of her mouth. She didn't like this. At all.

"I have crimes I must atone for, love," he said sadly, his hand moving to her face. "And it's well past time I faced them."

"I can't … I can't go … I can't go not knowing if you're going to be all right," she said, her voice breaking.

"I'm going to be fine," he said, but Emma knew he was lying.

"Killian … "

"Shh, Emma," he said, kissing her deeply and longingly, letting his lips linger against hers.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, tears slipping down her cheeks again.

"And I love you," he said, brushing away her tears with his thumb. "And _nothing_ is going to keep me from you for long." The sound of footsteps from the woods was drawing nearer now. He pushed her away, almost roughly, as though it pained him to do it. "Now, _go_."

"No … I … "

"Emma, go," he said, and she heard the pain in his voice. "Please, darling, just _go_."

"Emma, I told you to trust me," Tinkerbell's voice broke in then, and she pulled on Emma's hand, leading her off in the opposite direction. "And you're _really _going to have to do that. I'm going to get you home, and then I'm going to help him, I promise. But you can't be here now."

"But … " Emma had no idea what was going on. Was this all part of Tinkerbell's plan from before? It didn't seem that way, with the panic in the pixie's eyes and the fear in her voice. She kept looking back over her shoulder to where he stood, watching her walk away. All she wanted to do was run back to him, but Tink kept pulling her further. "What's going to happen to him?"

"_Nothing_," Tink said firmly. "I won't let it. He's _mine_, and they can't hurt him so long as I'm here." She grabbed Emma's other hand. "Emma, I'll keep him safe, I _promise_."

"Will he … will I … " She couldn't get the words out. "What are they going to do to him?"

"A trial," Tink said, her mouth a firm line. "For what he did to the Hollow."

"But … he's guilty," Emma said helplessly. "You said so yourself … he decimated it … he's … "

"Captain Hook is guilty, yes. But I don't think that man exists any more, and I aim to prove it to them," the fairy said with conviction.

"But … how? What if you can't? Tinkerbell, what are they going to do to him?"

"Emma, you said you loved him, right?" Tink said, stopping then and turning to face her. "Enough to break a curse?"

Emma frowned. "I … how would I know that?"

"_If _I can't convince them … they will execute him," Tinkerbell said.

"No," Emma said, twisting her wrist to break free of Tink's hold on her hand. "Why can't you send us both back, why can't you just get him _out _of here?"

"It doesn't work like that, Emma!" Tink said helplessly. "Don't you think I would, if I could? I _can't _send him back, because they aren't just going to let him leave. When we sent him away from Neverland last time, we placed a curse on him. If he were to ever return, he would never be able to leave. He would stay and be punished for his crimes."

The enormity of what Tinkerbell was saying hit Emma like a ton of bricks. "Then why would he _ever _come back here?" Emma asked helplessly.

Tinkerbell just stared at her. "For you," she said, as though it were obvious.

_I chose you!_

Killian's words came rushing back to her, and caused the breath to leave her body completely. Emma could no longer keep the tears at bay. "So there's … there's nothing … that's just … that's_ it_? I married him and now he's … "

She had a ring on her finger, and snowflakes melting in her hair.

A ring on her finger.

A _star _on her finger.

Tinkerbell nodded as she saw the clarity dawn on Emma then. "True love can break any curse," Tinkerbell said softly. "You can save him."

"How?" Emma asked. "What do I have to do?"

"Remember." Killian's voice then. Emma's head shot up as she saw him standing there. He had followed them. "All you have to do, Emma my love, is _remember _me."

"The Star on your finger will help," Tinkerbell said. "I've imbued it with pixie dust. Your memories won't be gone. Just latent. _Something _will trigger them, something very specific, that you will have to find on your own. Once they're back … "

"Go to the cabin," Killian finished. "That's all you have to do."

"Okay," Emma said. She frowned. "What's the catch? That's … too easy."

"The catch, my darling, is that you only have one month in your world to get it done," Killian said.

"One _month_?" Emma asked. "So I'm supposed to somehow figure out whatever this trigger for my memory is … without knowing that I _need _it … in one month's time or … "

He pressed his index finger to her lips then, not letting her finish her sentence. "I believe in you, lass," he said, pulling her into his arms. "I know you're going to save me. You are the savior, after all."

"But what if I don't?" she said, her voice cracking with tears.

He kissed her, almost chastely. "I don't believe that will happen," he said. "Not for a second."

"Killian … "

He kissed her again, and this time it was desperate, hungry, as though … as though it were the last time. She returned it with equal fervor, clinging to him like he was a lifeline as her tears spilled down her cheeks. She could taste salt on his lips, and she knew without having to look that he was crying too. Her hand moved up to cup his cheek, letting the stubble on his jawline tickle her fingers.

"Emma Swan, I love you … more than I thought it possible to love _anyone_. I chose _you_. And I believe in you," he gasped raggedly against her lips then. "Remember that. Remember _me_."

There was a sudden popping noise from behind her then … and everything went black.

xOx

Emma woke up in the middle of the woods outside Storybrooke. It was dark out, and freezing, a light snow falling as she pushed herself up off the ground, looking around.

What the hell was she doing all the way out here, by the old cabin? She started to brush the dirt off her jeans, when a flash of light caught her eyes. Looking down at her hands, she frowned.

She had a ring on her finger.

Where the hell did _that _come from? Shaking her head, and deciding some questions were probably better left answered after she'd had a shower and a good night's sleep, she slowly started to make her way back through the woods, toward town.

She had a ring on her finger, and snowflakes melting in her hair.

And she had no idea why.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: The Sun

**A/N: **This is The Sun. If you guys thought this would be anything but a GOOD chapter, then you were wrong. The Sun is ranked up there with The Star, as far as being symbols of things bright and hopeful and … dare I say, RADIANT? ;) Two chapters to go. Thank you all SO MUCH for sticking with me throughout this whole thing. I hope this chapter makes it worth it to you.

**Chapter Nineteen**  
_**The Sun**_  
_"I'm holding you closer than most, 'cause you are my heaven … "_

One minute she was there, in his arms, her lips searing against his own, and the next … she was gone. His arms were suddenly empty, and when he opened his eyes, all that met him was air, and dark, and cold, where once had been Emma, and light, and warmth.

The pain he felt was worse than anything. Worse than nearly having his heart ripped from his chest, worse than … worse than losing Milah.

He couldn't move. He stood rooted to the spot, though he knew they were coming for him.

He didn't care any more.

_She was gone._

He had thought he could handle it. He had thought that getting her back home safely would be worth it … but he was a selfish, hateful bastard.

He wanted her to be with _him_. She belonged with him. They belonged _together_.

It was his fault, and he knew it. Emma was nothing if not radiant, she was light in a world that had long since grown dark for him. But once again, the light was stolen from him. He should've known better than to hope. Even touching her should have been forbidden, and he'd done so much more than that.

You couldn't dance with the sun and not get burned.

"Emma!" The cry, _her name_, loud and anguished, escaped his throat then, a strangled sob that threatened to tear him asunder if he let it take hold.

"Peter!"

There was a hand on his arm, delicate and warm, so like and yet so _un_like Emma's that it nearly broke him. He whirled on his intruder, a snarl on his lips, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Peter, it's _me_." She snapped her fingers in his face, a shower of golden sparks emitting from her fingertips. Instantly, his rage calmed.

Tinkerbell.

He felt all the tension leave his body then, it was all he could do to remain upright. And she was there, a steadying hand about his shoulders.

"Don't you go weak on me now," she told him. "You haven't the time for this. You've got a whole tribunal of pixies to convince that you're not the man you were last time you were here."

His eyes flicked back to the spot where Emma had stood, not five minutes earlier. "I don't know what I am any more," he said tiredly. "Does it even matter?"

"Of _course _it matters," Tinkerbell said sternly, but not unkindly. "Don't you have faith in her?"

"She's free now," he said, and his voice sounded hollow in his ears. "Perhaps it's better this way. She's better off not remembering me."

"Oh, shut _up_," Tink snapped, rolling her eyes. "Enough with the damn pity party! How do you think she could _possibly_ forget you? After everything the two of you have been through? She loves you, Peter, for some reason I can't begin to fathom. She's completely mad about you, despite her own misgivings, despite her past, and most importantly, despite _your _past. She doesn't care about any of that. She just wants you. And you still exist for her. In the back of her mind, in the area where ideas and dreams are born … that's where you are. That's where she'll find you."

"People come here all the time, Tinkerbell," he said. "They never remember."

"You did," the pixie pointed out. Then she grinned, almost impishly. "Besides, Peter, there are a _few_ things that even the most sound of logic can't explain away. Trust me when I say … you left her with _more _than enough to remember you by."

Killian's brow furrowed at that and he cast a sidelong look at his petite companion. "What are you on about now?" he asked her. "You mean, the ring?"

Tinkerbell shrugged daintily. "Among other things."

"Tinkerbell," he said warningly. "Stop being so bloody cryptic and tell me what you're talking about." He looked over his shoulder as the sound of footsteps grew louder. They would find him, any minute now.

"Sorta funny to think about, you know?" He just looked at her blankly, and she smiled at him softly. "The boy who never wanted to grow up … is going to be a father."

"I'm … what?" he asked, all thoughts of anything else flying from his mind.

"It was pretty obvious, as soon as I saw you two on the ship … she's glowing brighter than _you _do, and that's saying something," Tinkerbell said. "You always were the brightest light I'd ever seen … until now. Emma doesn't know yet … but she will, soon enough. It's a girl, you know."

Killian didn't … _couldn't_… move, even when the council members found him. Whatever they wanted to do to him, it didn't matter.

Emma was pregnant.

His mind was buzzing. Never before had the prospect of fatherhood seemed appealing to him … though chances were high that he'd unwittingly gotten a few bastards on a random tavern wench or two …

But this was _different_.

This was _Emma_.

His feelings of despair were gone. She would find him. They always did manage to find one another, after all. Against all odds, pirate and princess seemed to keep crossing paths.

And they always would.

"Her Majesty is waiting for you," the council leader barked then, and Killian inclined his head.

"Of course she is," he said drolly. "I'm quite popular."

Tinkerbell rolled her eyes. "Stop being a smartass," she hissed at him. "That's not going to help you."

"No, but Emma is," he said, and he gave Tinkerbell a grin.

She smiled. "Found your faith, did you?"

"I suppose I have," he said, then turned to look at the council. "All right, you lot. Take me to your leader."

xOx

Emma felt like hell.

It had been nearly two weeks now since she'd woken up in the woods, and she was no closer to remembering what had lead her out there in the first place than she had been. She hadn't been sleeping well … every night she seemed to be plagued by dreams. Not nightmares, but disconcerting all the same. There were stars, always stars, and bright colors, and the sound of devious, mischievous laughter, and always, always, in the background … a figure she couldn't quite make out, a man, encased in shadows that obstructed her view of him.

Except for his eyes. Bright blue. _Achingly _familiar.

This night's dream was particularly vivid and she woke with a start, her stomach lurching from the sudden movement. She tossed back her blankets and darted from her room into the bathroom, just in time.

She supposed falling asleep in the middle of the snow late at night came with the unfortunate side-effect of getting sick. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had a stomach bug, though. The only time she remembered ever feeling sick like this was actually when she'd been …

But that was stupid, not to mention _impossible_. She hadn't been with anyone since long before even coming to Storybrooke. And that was over a year ago.

She leaned back against the wall, her head resting on the edge of the tub, the cool porcelain soothing against her heated flesh. She closed her eyes and saw those blue eyes again, the ones that haunted her dreams.

"Emma," a voice whispered in her head, a voice she knew well. She didn't know how, but she knew it was a voice that she loved. "Emma!"

"Emma!" There was a knock on the bathroom door then, and it jarred Emma from her semi-dream state. David's voice was on the other side. "Emma, are you all right in there?"

Emma sat up slowly, waiting a beat to see if her stomach was going to protest again. When it didn't, she stood up and opened the door. "I'm fine," she said, doing her best to smile reassuringly at David. He'd been so much more protective and worried since she'd been back. She'd find it endearing … if it weren't so annoying. But hey. She was the one who'd wanted to find her parents. "Still fighting that bug."

"You've been sick for two weeks," David said, his brow creased with concern, "and you still don't know where you were … maybe you should go see the doctor?"

Emma made a face. The _last _thing she wanted to do was go see Dr. Whale — or any of the doctors in this town, at that. "If it doesn't get better in a few days, I will, I promise," she said, mostly just to appease him.

"I'm still not convinced that damned pirate didn't do something to you," he muttered.

Emma shook her head. "And I've told you, I don't even know who you're talking about. There are not, nor have their ever been, pirates in Storybrooke. I'm the sheriff, don't you think I'd notice if _Captain Hook _were strolling around town?" She bit back a laugh. The idea still cracked her up as much as it had the first night she'd been home, when they'd asked about him.

Captain Hook. What the actual hell.

"Emma, it's not funny," David said sharply, and Emma was immediately chagrined. She didn't know how he managed to do it, but he had a very stern "dad voice" that, despite their age similarity, still made Emma feel like she ought to behave.

"It's kinda funny," she pointed out. "I mean, come on, you guys are convinced I was going to have some sort … what, illicit affair? With Captain Hook? I may not remember where I was, but seriously?"

"Why would I joke about something like this?"

"I don't know," Emma said, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Because you're very, very bored? And mad at me for disappearing and scaring you again, and this is your idea of payback?"

David gave her an unamused look. "Because that's what we do around here," he said dryly.

"You might?" Emma said with a shrug, a small grin on her lips. "But really, you guys couldn't come up with a better fake boyfriend for me?"

David gave her a puzzled look. "Emma, we're really not kidding," he said. "Captain Hook — Killian Jones — he was here. He's after Rumplestiltskin, some sort of revenge thing … you were trying to keep that in check. You were worried about what Rumplestiltskin might do to him. You cared about him, Emma," David sighed. "And as much as it pains me to say it … he was obviously very fond of you."

Emma frowned. _Killian Jones_… the name sent a shiver down her spine.

_Ah, so you've heard of me._

She shifted a little bit as bright blue eyes flashed in her mind. "But he's not here now?"

"He hasn't been seen since the night you went missing … when you didn't come home, we assumed he'd come looking for you here, but he didn't."

Mary-Margaret and Henry had both told her similar things. They wouldn't all be lying to her. There had to be some truth in here … somewhere. The answers to the questions she didn't even know her mind was asking.

"You said he had … issues with Gold?" Emma asked.

"Well, you know, apparently he cut off his hand," David said with a shrug. "I can understand how that'd be a problem."

"No, it was more than his hand," she said, frowning.

She had no idea where _that _had come from, but she had a brief flash of … being in some sort of ruined castle … with a man … she still couldn't see his face, but there was a tattoo on his arm. A heart, a blade, a woman's name …

_For someone who's never been in love, you're very perceptive, aren't you?_

The voice rang through her head, clear as a bell, and she took a step back, gasping a little as she felt a pang in her heart.

"Emma?" David asked, reaching out to steady her.

"I think I need to go see Rumplestiltskin."

"I don't think so," David said firmly. "There is no way that's a good idea."

"I know it's not," Emma said. "But there's something blocking off my memories … memories that, according to all of you, should be _pretty _important to me. And if he and … Killian," her heart gave another pang when she said that name, "if they had some sort of conflict … then don't you think this is exactly the kind of thing Rumplestiltskin would do?"

"Emma … " David said, but she could tell she was winning the argument.

"Can you just trust me?" she asked, her eyes beseeching his.

_Try something new, darling. It's called trust._

"I don't know," he said slowly.

"I'm going, whether you like it or not," she said, pushing past him then, tired of standing in the doorway of the bathroom, and filled with a sudden urgency.  
She wanted answers, now. That voice in her head, it wasn't going away, and those blue eyes were burning into her.

_You cared about him, _David had said.

She thought it was more than that. Whoever it was …

She had a ring on her finger, and she was sick like she hadn't been since …

Things were starting to click in her head, but there were still some _huge _pieces missing.

She was dressed and out the door in a matter of minutes, ignoring the protests from Mary-Margaret, ignoring David's stern glare, and ruffling Henry's hair as she walked past him. Her mind was racing as she made her way toward Gold's shop.

_Ooh, you're a tough lass. You'd make a hell of a pirate._

Emma felt her lips twitch a little at the memory that hit her then. "I _am_ a hell of a pirate," she muttered to herself. She cast a glance down to the ring on her finger … and there it was. His face, clear as day in her mind. Smirking and infuriating and altogether _too _handsome for it's own good … and hers.

She remembered _him_, all right. She'd never truly forgotten … it had all been there, waiting, just waiting. She wasn't even sure what it was that tripped the memories … something David had said had jangled something in her mind, she was sure of it … not to mention how sick she was.

And the unexplained ring …

The ring. She knew then that Tinkerbell had done something to it … caused her memories to lie there, latent, not vanished, just sleeping. That's what the dreams were. Gifts from the pixie, drawing her closer to the truth. And as for the rest … well … that was a different kind of gift, she supposed. One they'd have to deal with together.

He was out there, somewhere, and he needed her. That much she was sure of. He belonged to her. They belonged _together_. That was all she needed to know. The rest she could figure out later.

She was going to get him back. By the time she yanked the door open to the shop, there was a fire in her heart like she'd never felt before.

"Ah, Ms. Swan," Gold said, looking up as the bell above the door jangled. He smiled, and Emma fought the urge to punch him in the face. "How lovely to see you. I trust you're recovering from your unfortunate incident?"

"Save it," Emma snapped, flipping the lock on the door and turning the sign to "Closed". "I'm not here for small talk, and I'm pretty sure you know that."

"Then what are you here for, dearie?" he asked, regarding her with some degree of amusement, which only served to _piss _her off.

"You are going to tell me how to get my husband back," she said, her mouth a thin line. The words just rushed from her mouth, but everything about her felt warm as she said them. She wasn't crazy. It wasn't a dream. He was out there, and he was hers.

It didn't escape her, the look of bewilderment that crossed Gold's face then. He hadn't counted on her remembering. "Didn't expect that, did you?" she said, cocking a brow at him. "You're going to help me get him back, or so help me God, I will end you myself."


	21. Chapter Twenty: Judgement

**A/N: **When I started this story, my whole goal was to give Emma HER fairy tale. HER happy ending. Which she deserves, oh so much. I wanted to write something that Captain Swanners could come back to, whenever they wanted to see a happy ending for our 'ship, no matter what happens on the show. This has always been meant to be … very fairy tale-esque in the telling. So I've used cliches a few times, I've used tried and true tropes. I'm not SORRY for doing it that way, I'm not sorry for ANY of the choices I've made in this fic, because THIS is the story I wanted to tell, all along. Anyway! This chapter is my FAVORITE chapter in the entire story. The next chapter is the end, and it will put a nice little bow on everything, but this is what I consider the crowning moment of this fic. I love all of you for reading this and loving it as much as I've loved writing it. So this is for all of you.

**Chapter Twenty**  
_**Judgement**_  
_"So show me family, all the blood that I will bleed … "_

Instead of answering her, like she had expected, Gold snapped his fingers, and Emma's eyes widened as the shop disappeared around them. "What the hell did you just do?" Emma asked, her tone biting.

"We're going to take a little trip, dearie," Gold said, and the urge to punch him was rising in her again. How the _hell _was he wielding so much magic these days?

"I'm not interested," Emma said through gritted teeth. "What I want is for you to tell me how to get him _back_."

"Oh, I've no doubt that's what you think you want now. But, tell me, my dear … how well do you really know the man you've just called your husband?"

"Well enough to know that I'm on his side," she said, her voice heavy with conviction.

"I just hate for people to make uninformed decisions."

"And I just hate all these unexpected trips I seem to be taking lately," she snapped. She looked around, hoping for some idea of where they were, but it was all black around them.

"Oh, you'll thank me for this one," Gold said.

"Doubt it."

Suddenly, the dark room gave way to an old tavern. The sound of boisterous laughter met her ears, and she looked over toward the table it seemed to be coming from. Her heartbeat quickened … there he was. Younger, but just as cocky and arrogant as ever, raising a tankard of ale and talking loudly to be heard over the din of the crowd.

He still had both hands.

"Killian," she breathed, taking a step forward.

Gold put his hand on her shoulder. "Ah-ah, dearie, we're here to observe. He can't see you anyway."

Emma had almost forgotten Gold was here, so caught up in the sight of Killian again … her memories all seemed to click back into place at that moment, the face she couldn't _quite _remember suddenly there again. She shrugged Gold's hand off her shoulder irritably and took a step closer to the table anyway.

There was a woman sitting across from Killian, laughing and talking just as loudly as the rest of them. She was beautiful, with long, dark hair and bright, laughing blue eyes that seemed to light up whenever she looked over at Killian.

"Milah," Emma said, knowing without _knowing _who this was.

"So you've heard of her," Gold said, and Emma gave him a droll look.

"You really thought I hadn't? Is that what this is about? To share secrets that you're guessing I didn't know?" She shook her head. "That's pretty pathe — "

She trailed off as a much-younger Rumplestiltskin entered the tavern then, walking directly over to the table where Killian and Milah sat with his crew. Her brow furrowed as she watched the ensuing scene unfold.

"Milah was your wife," she said then, casting a glance over to Gold before turning her attention back to the table. Okay, well, she hadn't known _that_. That sort of explained a lot. "Milah was your wife and she ran off with Killian and that's why … "

"He stole her from me, and what's worse, he stole her from her son," Gold said, venom in his voice.

"She wasn't stolen. She's a _person_, not property," she said scathingly. "And if she was able to up and leave her son just like that … well … " Emma shrugged and didn't finish her sentence. She couldn't imagine leaving Henry for anything. Not even for Killian.

"Yes, I know now that Milah was an intensely selfish person," Gold said, "but you are lashing yourself to a man who is _just _as selfish and cruel."

"He's not the same man he once was," Emma said firmly. "I can't say that I knew him back then," she nodded back toward the table, "but I know him _now_. And I don't know what you were trying to accomplish here, but if it was to make me … what, _give up_on getting him back? You failed."

"Ah, but do you truly believe he'd be coming back here just for you, dearie?"

The scene changed then … it was daytime, and they were on the deck of a ship. It was some time later, Killian looked a little older, closer to the way Emma knew him. And there was Rumplestiltskin again, but boy, did _he _look different.

She winced, her heart breaking just a little as she watched Rumplestiltskin cut off Killian's hand with nary a care. She wanted to go to him, but knew that was against the rules. "Killian," she breathed.

What happened next made Emma's blood freeze in her veins … everything about the scene … it was so _familiar_, and painful. The choked, horrible noises coming from Milah's throat as she struggled to breathe, the way the woman fell over, struggling for every breath. Killian was holding her in his arms as she took her last painful breath …

_… The sunlight had been streaming through the windows of the sheriff's office as Graham tended to her face, and Emma had felt a little bit happier than she could remember … He had thanked her, and then he wasn't breathing and all Emma knew was that everything hurt and nothing made sense … _

"Stop it," Emma said then, her voice strained and cold. "I don't want to watch any more of this."

"Oh, what's wrong, dearie? Are we having a change of heart about bringing him back?"

Emma's eyes flashed angrily when she looked at Gold then. "Was that the whole purpose of this little field trip? To make me feel sorry for _you_?" Emma laughed bitterly. "Because she didn't love you, you _killed_ her! And I'm supposed to … to what? Cry for you? You cut off his _hand_. You killed his _love_." She shook her head. "I might actually help him after seeing this."

"You couldn't, even if you truly meant that," Gold said patronizingly.

"Don't take another step toward me," Emma said warningly. "I meant it when I said I'd end you myself if I had to." She cocked her head a bit then. "No, you know what? I suppose I _should _thank you. For this," she waved her hand at the scene around them. "Because now I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he and I belong together."

"You're a foolish girl, Emma Swan," Gold said and there was malice in his tone.

"No. I _used_ to be. Before I met him. I get it now." She smiled softly to herself, letting one hand rest on her stomach. "This is _my _happy ending. And I've damn well earned it."

"I won't help you bring him back here," Gold said. "He's earned whatever he's got coming to him."

The light caught the ring on Emma's finger then, and her smile grew. She remembered everything now. "I couldn't agree more," she said softly. She looked up at Gold then. "I don't need your help." She moved to take a step, but Gold blocked her way. Instead of arguing, she just pushed past him roughly.

The ship and the daylight faded away, and suddenly they were back in Gold's shop. Emma didn't even bother to look back at Gold, she tore out of his shop and toward the woods.

_Go to the cabin. That's all you have to do._

xOx

Killian gritted his teeth against the next lash, the next vision of his past that was better left unvisited. The pixies of the Hollow had a unique way of meting out justice to those who had wronged them.

He was chained up in the pixies' version of the stocks, his "trial" well underway.

Tinkerbell stood off to the side, sobbing and begging for them to stop. "You didn't even give him a _chance_!" she screamed futilely.

Queen Titania stood away from the scene, her arms crossed imperiously over her golden form, watching with cold, detached eyes. "Do stop bleating, Tinkerbell," she said boredly. "It does not matter how you say he's changed, he is guilty of the crimes he is being punished for."

"But you're going to kill him!" Tinkerbell cried, lunging at her, only to be pulled back by Titania's guards.

"He _should _die!" Titania bellowed, letting her true voice echo throughout the Hollow — a terrifying and majestic sound.

"Tinkerbell," Killian gasped as one of the Queen's guards lashed him again. Every time they struck him, every time the whip cracked against his skin, another vision hit him … moments in his dark past, things he had done. "Stop, love," he managed to tell the pixie.

"I won't! Because this isn't _fair_!"

"Aye, it is," he said, a rush of air leaving his body as one of the guards hit him with a heavily mailed fist.

The vision he saw then was of the time he had stolen into Queen Regina's castle, hoping to get information out of the girl who'd been living with the Dark One … she'd given him _nothing_, and he'd backhanded her for it.

The guards backhanded him then and his vision swam. Emma's face appeared to him through the haze, soothing him just a bit. It was more than he deserved … but he'd take it.

"Stop it! Stop it, _please_, take me instead!" Tinkerbell cried.

"Oh, you've got your own punishment coming," the Queen told her, looking at her icily.

Killian knew where this was going to end. Every vision they showed him was just a little bit worse than the one before … it would all culminate in the crime they were most angry about — his destruction of the Hollow, he was sure of it.

He was also sure he wouldn't survive it.

Out of the corner of the eye that wasn't swollen shut yet, he could see the Queen's executioner. Just waiting. It wouldn't be long now. And after everything he'd seen, he knew it was no less than he deserved.

He only wished he could see Emma one last time …

Tinkerbell broke free completely of the guards then, and she was in front of him. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to him, tears slipping down her cheeks . "I'm so sorry, Peter. I was supposed to protect you and I failed."

"Shh, Tinkerbell," he said. He couldn't really see her, not with his eyes swelling the way they were. "Just … find Emma somehow … tell her … I'm sorry … " He was losing his grasp on consciousness, though he knew the pixies wouldn't grant him that relief for long.

"No!" Tinkerbell said, tilting his face up. "No, Peter, don't you _dare _give up! There's still time … Emma can still save you … "

"Can't … be saved," he said tiredly.

Tinkerbell was shoved roughly out of the way then by the guards, but Killian felt her hand in his. Stubborn little bint, she was sticking with him til the bitter end. He hoped she'd find some way to Emma … to help her. This was going to destroy Emma … he'd promised he'd never be the one to hurt her, yet here he was.

He did his best to face what he knew was coming with some measure of dignity, whatever he had left in him. Just before the final blow fell, he swore he heard Emma's voice, calling to him …

"_Killian_!"

"Emma," he breathed, a small smile on his lips as everything faded to black.

xOx

Tinkerbell was holding onto his hand when she felt the pull. Her eyes widened in shock and she looked to Peter … he was beaten bloody and bruised and unconscious.

Oh, gods, was he dead?

The executioner was stepping forward then, and Tinkerbell felt the tug again, the pull from the other side.

_Emma._

She looked up to Titania, unable to keep from smiling a little. He was going to be okay. The Queen's eyes met hers, and Tinkerbell saw the understanding dawn on her.

"NO!" she screeched, flicking her wrist and emitting a wave of magic from her fingertips.

The magic hit Peter, and Tinkerbell gasped. A curse, of course. One final gift from the Queen of the Pixies.

But the Hollow was disappearing around them then, and Tinkerbell could _feel _Emma's light radiating from the other side.

"It's gonna be okay," she said to herself, squeezing Peter's hand tightly. "It's gonna be okay."

They hit the ground hard on the other side, and Tinkerbell whimpered a bit, before sitting up. They were in the woods. Somewhere. She looked over at Peter, who was still unconscious and would be until …

"Find Emma," Tinkerbell said to herself, standing up and nodding. "Must find Emma. Where do I even start?"

"I'm here."

xOx

Emma burst through the treeline in the woods, right outside the cottage. It was much like the night she'd ended up in Neverland, the frantic beating of her heart, the dread that consumed her, the worry for Killian …

There was a bright flash just as she broke through the trees, and then there was Killian, limp and bruised and bloody, lying on the ground. And Tinkerbell was with him. She was muttering to herself, "Find Emma."

"I'm here," Emma said, her eyes never leaving Killian. "Oh, God, what happened?"

"I'll explain later," Tinkerbell said. "Right before we got pulled through — nice timing, by the way — Titania threw a curse at him."

"A … curse?" Emma said, her heart pounding. He looked dead. He couldn't be dead. That wasn't how this was supposed to go. They were supposed to be together, and be a family and … happily ever after … all that crap she'd never believed in.

Before him.

She couldn't lose him. Not now.

"No," she said, shaking her head, and then she was on the ground, next to Killian, pulling him into her arms. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at him … what had they done to him? "Killian," she whispered. "Don't leave me now."

His bottom lip was split open, so she was oh-so-very-gentle as she brushed her lips against his.

The second their lips made contact, Emma felt a jolt through her, a pulse of magic emanating all around them. And then she felt his hand in her hair, and he was pulling her down closer to him, kissing her _hard_, and Emma was crying as her hand moved up to cup his cheek.

"Emma," he breathed when they finally parted, his eyes still swollen, but open enough to look at her, open enough that she could see the beautiful blue shining back at her.

"Hi," she said, laughing and crying at the same time.

"'ello, love," he whispered back, that familiar smirk quirking the corners of his lips. "It's about bloody time."


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: The World

**A/N: **And with this, it's done. I'm actually sitting here in awe that it's over. And I'm sad too. I've loved writing EVERY WORD of this fic, and I've loved sharing it with you.

I told you guys before that this chapter was going to put a bow on everything, and I hope that it does that for you all. There's a LOT more I COULD have incorporated here … but I guarantee you I'll be writing a sequel to this at some point in the future, and I wanted to leave enough there to work with. This fic was always meant to be about the JOURNEY, which is what the Major Arcana symbolizes. The World, which is this chapter, is symbolic of things coming full-circle, of new beginnings, and of getting everything you started out wanting, and then some. It makes me happy, and I hope it satisfies you guys, too. Thank you all SO MUCH for sticking with me on this ride. I'm glad I was able to make you guys happy with this story.

**Chapter Twenty-One**  
_**The World**_  
_"You put your arms around me and I'm home … "_

Tinkerbell helped Emma get Killian inside the cabin, with no little amount of effort. "Sheesh, I think you need to lay off the sweets, Peter," Tink quipped as they moved him. He grumbled something, and Emma knew he must be in a lot of pain to not have any sort of comeback for that.

"I'm sorry," Emma said softly when he gave a sharp gasp as they tried to get him somewhat comfortable on the old sofa.

He gave her a wan smile. "Shhh, love, I'm fine," he told her, squeezing her hand a bit.

"No, you need a doctor," she said.

"Does it look that bad?" he said, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

"It's pretty bad," Emma said, nodding. "At least let me get the first aid kit from the sheriff's office, so I can do some sort of damage assessment."

She started to move away, but his hand pulled her back. "Send the pixie," he said, his hand not letting go of hers.

"But she's new here … " Emma protested weakly.

"Send. The. Pixie," he said again, his voice brooking no room for argument. "Every time I've let you walk away from me, _something _has happened to keep us apart. Forgive me, love, if I'm not so anxious to see that happen again."

Emma couldn't even argue with that. She was tired of them being separated all the time, she wanted a chance to actually _be _with him, finally. "All right," she said, turning her head to look at Tinkerbell. "I can give you directions … "

Tinkerbell waved her hand. "No need," she said. "I'll find it. Back in a jiffy!"

"Don't hurry," Killian called after her and Emma shook her head in amusement.

She knelt down by the couch then, her hand still firmly resting in his. "I'm sorry it took me so long," she said then. "I knew there was something wrong the moment I woke up here again, but … "

"Don't apologize," he said. "There was nothing more you could've done, darling. And apparently, we're very lucky. You might not have ever figured it out … if you weren't with child."

Emma's head shot up at that. "H - how do you know that?" she asked him, eyes wide. "I mean, I sorta _guessed_, but I haven't even had it confirmed yet … "

"Tinkerbell," Killian said, shaking his head a bit. "She said it was the only way she knew that sending you back with the Star on your finger was going to work. So you see, it's a good thing you were unable to resist me." He flashed a grin, and Emma rolled her eyes.

"I'll still smack you. You think you're getting a free pass just because you got all _tortured_? Think again, pal," she said dryly, and he laughed heartily.

"Oh, I missed you, Emma my love."

She smiled. She had missed his laugh. "I missed you. Even when I didn't remember you, I missed you." She looked down at their interlocked fingers, a warmth spreading through her unlike anything she'd ever known. "It's like there was just this … part of me, missing. I can't explain it better than that, I'm not good at words."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that any more, love," he said, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "I did tell you I would never abandon you."

"The trust thing, right?" Emma said, giving him a look.

"And the faith thing," he added. "Faith," he repeated, his expression thoughtful. "Tinkerbell says the baby is a little lass."

"I suppose she just has some mystical pixie way of knowing, huh?" Emma said, her own brow creased. "Faith," she said, testing the name out. A slow smile spread over her lips then. "_Wendy _Faith." She looked at Killian. "In honor of you. And all your stories."

"And you," he said with a smile of his own. "The first and only lass I've ever taken to Neverland."

She sighed a bit then. "I remember it all now, you know. I don't know how I could've forgotten it," she said. "It was the most … beautiful place. Will it fade — the memories, I mean?"

"Not so long as you have the Star," he told her.

She looked down at her finger. The ring on her finger. The snowflakes in her hair. Every moment that she'd shared with this man from the moment she'd pulled that pile of rubble off of him, until now … every moment was precious. Every moment made her a believer, at long last.

"I have to tell Henry," she said. "He's never going to believe me."

"I wouldn't be so sure, love," Killian said with a grin. "The lad's more perceptive than you might think."

"Oh, trust me, I'm well aware," Emma said drolly. "But there's a lot here that stretches believability, even for him."

"Even for who?"

Emma turned then, hearing Henry's voice behind her. Tinkerbell, Henry, Mary-Margaret and David all stood just inside the doorway of the cabin.

"You brought them all?" Emma asked Tinkerbell, raising an eyebrow.

"I ran into this one," Tink said, ruffling Henry's hair, "and he immediately knew who I was. Kids always do." She smiled fondly at the boy. "He reminds me of another young boy I knew once."

Henry smiled. "You figured it out, didn't you?" he asked Emma then.

"Figured what out?" Emma asked, confused as Killian started to laugh. She looked between Killian and Henry, frowning. "What's so funny?"

She had a sudden memory then, walking into the apartment one afternoon, a couple of months ago, hearing the sound of Henry's laughter as he and Killian watched …

_Peter Pan._

"You!" She whirled on Henry, gaping. "You _knew_? How?"

Henry just shrugged.

"Darling, it's like Tinkerbell said. Kids always just _know_, somehow," Killian said. "It's one reason I never spent much time around them."

"You little traitor," Emma said, shaking her head at Henry, a smile tugging the corners of her lips.

"I told you you weren't ready," Henry said with a grin.

"Is someone going to explain what's going on here, or are we just to guess?" David's voice now. And he didn't sound happy. He sort of had that "itching to punch something" set to his shoulders too.

At least Killian was too wounded to make a good target.

"Well … um," Emma said, suddenly at a loss. "I remember now."

"And?" Mary-Margaret pressed, moving further into the room.

"Gold sent me through a portal," Emma said, frowning.

"Back to the Enchanted Forest?" Mary-Margaret asked, and Emma shook her head.

"No," she said, looking back at Killian and smiling a bit. "Neverland."

"You were in _Neverland_?" David asked.

"Why would Gold do that?" Mary-Margaret asked, confused.

Killian sat up then, wincing painfully as he did. "To punish me," he said. "He found out I was here, he found out about Emma and I, and I suppose he was looking to get rid of me, knowing what I … initially came to Storybrooke to do."

"So the portal was meant for you?" David asked.

"No," Killian said. "It was meant for Emma. He knew I wasn't welcome back in Neverland, but he also knew that without my help, Emma would be stranded there forever."

"So it was a way to get rid of you," Mary-Margaret said.

"Aye," he said. "I could take my revenge on him, right then, but in doing that, Emma would have been lost to you … and I couldn't let that happen."

Emma's stomach did a little flip. Of course, she'd heard most of this before, but hearing it again, like this, it really hit her. He had _chosen her_, over his revenge, over _everything_. "You really didn't think you were coming back, when you jumped in that portal, did you?" she asked him softly.

"No," he said, reaching for her hand again.

"Okay, so … obviously there's more to it than that," Mary-Margaret said, looking very pointedly at the two of them. "I mean, you got her home, and somehow, you're here now too, and you've brought … " She looked over at Tinkerbell.

"Tinkerbell!" the pixie said cheerfully. "Peter and I go way back."

"Peter?" David said, confused.

"As in … Peter _Pan_?" Mary-Margaret said, looking back at Emma and Killian. "Okay, well that makes so much more sense now."

"It does?" David asked. Emma felt kind of bad for him. He looked really confused. She made a vow that she would sit down and talk to him about everything as soon as she was able to. After all, if it hadn't been for him this morning, she might not be here right now at all.

"It does," Mary-Margaret said to him, waving her hand lightly. "You didn't see him back in the Enchanted Forest." She turned back to Emma and Killian then. "Okay, I'm sure there's much more to this story, and I'll get it out of you, eventually, but until then, I just have one more question for you."

"Okay?" Emma said, a knot of worry in her stomach then.

"Which one of you is going to explain the ring on Emma's finger?"

xOx

_Three Weeks Later_

Emma headed back to the cabin after work, expecting to find Henry, Tink, David, Mary-Margaret, Archie, Ruby, and Marco still out there, hard at work, like they had been ever since Killian's return to Storybrooke.

Once the whole story of Emma and Killian's trip to Neverland had been told, and once everyone had gotten over their initial shock (except Henry, who'd just been _ecstatic_ about everything — the marriage, the baby, all of it), they'd come to the conclusion that turning the cabin into a functional _home _should be the first order of business. So that's what they'd been doing. And in matter of a few weeks' time, the ramshackle old cabin had been turned into a cozy, warm little cottage, complete with running water, electricity, and modern appliances.

Killian hadn't been much help to them, since he'd been recovering from his ordeal with the pixies, but he'd done what he could. He had flat-out refused to let Emma do anything more than hammer a few nails, and Emma had rolled her eyes in annoyance. Though truth be told, the whole doting thing he was doing was kind of nice.

She wasn't used to people doting on her.

She was a little confused when she pushed open the door of the cabin then, finding it strangely empty and quiet. An icy hand of fear gripped her heart. Every day that passed, she knew it was just a matter of time before Gold retaliated in some way. But she also knew that whatever happened, she and her pirate would face it together. They'd gotten this far, they weren't about to just give up now.

Still, there was an uneasy knot in her stomach as she entered the seemingly empty cabin. "Killian!" she called out. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

She peered through the new archway that now lead to the kitchen, brow furrowed. "Where is everyone?"

There was a pink rose sitting in the middle of the dining room table — which was brand new, a gift from Marco — with a note attached to it. Emma crossed over to it and picked up the flower, smiling a little to herself as she sniffed it. Pink roses were about as far out of Emma's comfort zone as it was possible to get … but then again, so was everything about her life, since Killian Jones had first appeared in it.

She burst out laughing when she read the note attached to the bloom.

_I feel better now._

She shook her head in amusement and turned around, only to find herself face to face with Killian, who was smirking.

"Is this meant to be some sort of hint?" she asked him with a smirk of her own.

"The bloody pixies put a damper on us getting to consummate our marriage," he said, pressing closer to her, backing her toward the table. "But alas," he hauled her against him, his arm going around her back as he did so, "I'm feeling ever-so-much better now."

"I can tell," Emma teased, her fingertips playing lightly over the front of his trousers. "Where is everyone else?"

"I sent them home," he breathed, leaning in and catching her lips with his. "I hope you're not planning to sleep tonight, love."

Emma feigned innocence. "Why, whatever do you have planned for me, _Captain_?" she murmured against his lips, knowing that it drove him crazy when she called him that.

He growled, and before she knew it, she was on the table, her legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her hungrily. "I mean to have you, Emma Swan," he said raggedly against her lips.

She smiled then, her eyes finding his. Her heart was full to bursting with all the things he made her feel, things she never thought she'd feel again … but this was stronger than anything, this was_ it_.

Her fingers curled in his shirt, and she pulled him closer, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "You already do."

THE END


End file.
